


The Alfirin

by novelllaqueen



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major character death - Freeform, Requited Love, Sarcasm, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, healing power of elves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-03-06 15:15:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 35,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3139043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novelllaqueen/pseuds/novelllaqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yavanna's Mark was supposed to be a gift, a gift from the Mother so one's soulmate could be found with ease and little heartache, but some gifts are never found and some, forgotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue-Mother's Mark

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a Bilbo/Thranduil soulmate AU. I love this pairing, and, well, no one else is writing anything with them. So, I decided to write one! This is very short because I wanted to see how it would be received, and because it's more of a prologue than anything.
> 
> Tell me how you like it!

Labored breathing filled the intimate and dark master bedroom belonging to Bag-End as a small hand lunged for a half-full glass of pale colored wine which adorned an ancient oak nightstand. Missing spectacularly, the hand tried again only to knock the glass to the side. Watching the honey colored droplets slip down the wooden table and disappear, Bilbo Baggins put a hand to his racing heart and attempted to recall the dream which had woken him. His left hand slipped further to just below his sternum and caressed a white scar called the Mother’s Mark after Yavanna, the grower and giver. No wider than the expanse of an infant’s hand, it was perfectly curved into the shape of a white flower with Bilbo’s delicate, blue veins running through it. Lazily rubbing the mark, he closed his eyes and remembered his mother.

* * *

 

“A funny thing,” she had huffed whilst baking a cake for his twenty-fifth birthday, “are those marks. Such small things, and yet, you spend your life figuring out who they belong to.” Even now, twenty-five years later, he remembered her brown curls, dampened by sweat, sticking to her forehead as she worked in the tiny kitchen of his home. “It’s an alfirin,” she’d said as she scooped dough out of a pale, pink glass bowl, “your flower, your mark. The name means ‘immortal’.” Her small hands kneaded the dough, and she continued, “Someday, Bilbo darling, you’ll find the person who has a mark exactly like the one you've got.” Bilbo had snorted and rolled his eyes. “And,” she drawled, “your mark will burn.” She’d gripped his hand in her flour coated ones and murmured, “You’ll be more, somehow. You’ll see, Bilbo.”

* * *

 

Shaking himself out of fuzzy realm of the past, Bilbo cut his eyes to a circular window on the right side of the room. The moon, ripe and round as a pearl, seemed to press her light against the dusty glass and slither into the cracks of his floor. Feeling altogether too discomfited, Bilbo rolled out of bed, his beige nightshirt trailing the floor, and unlatched the handle to let in the moon. Her pale brilliance brought to mind his dream. He remembered hair, silvery as a night-time mist, flashing in the face of a blade. Opening his mouth to draw a lungful of the moonlit air, he struggled to recall more, but nothing came. _Nothing ever would come_ , he reminded himself quietly, as time had proven. As he'd grown older, the lads and lasses of Hobbiton had paired off, each finding home in their One, until he was the last. Turning, he wearily clasped the window back into place and rested his head against the pastel yellow wall of his room. _Sleep_ , he told himself firmly, _is what is needed for tomorrow is my day, my fiftieth name day, and the sun will shine out golden and clear._ He strode back over and climbed into his bed, silently praying to the Valar for peace, sunshine, and an end to bittersweet dreams of hair soaked in pearl light.


	2. These times they are a changin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A birthday party, a cup, and an ill wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In canon, there are a lot of complications for this pairing which I'm going to ignore....like elves mating once and only once, size, immortality, the whole "no sex before marriage" etc. I'll figure it out. Besides, Finwe remarried after his wife died soo. Don't worry about it hahaha.
> 
> Also I don't own this?? Obviously or I would have this in canon probably

Bilbo woke slowly, unfurling himself slowly from an entanglement of pillows and thick quilts. The sun had filled up the space which the moon had taken the night before, and Bilbo enjoyed its tender warmth with lazy relish. Stretching and groaning, he rested his hands on the wooden headboard and leaned back to close his honey colored eyes and enjoy the morning. A sharp knocked sounded throughout his abode, and Bilbo frowned, hoping for respite. The knocking persisted, however, and Bilbo, grumbling and groaning, shrugged into a housecoat, forced himself from the comfort of the bed onto the wooden floors, through the house, and to the freshly painted green door to investigate.

 

Shielding his eyes from the bright sun, he flung open the door to glare bemusedly at the interloper. "Yes, Gaffer?" he questioned sarcastically. "Beggin' your pardon, Mr. Bilbo, sir," stuttered the gardener as he clenched nervously at a rusty spade "but today is your birthday, innit?" Bilbo sighed and dragged a petite hand across his face. "Yes, Hamfast, yes," he drawled in annoyance,"today is most certainly that day." "Well," the other hobbit hurriedly said, "we know it ain't quite the way of doin' things, but, but we thought--that is to say me and the missus--we thought you might like a party." Seeing Bilbo open his mouth to firmly and emphatecially protest the gardener plowed on, "And so, we decided that we would throw you one," with that he threw a piece of parchment in Bilbo's direction and turned to go. "Down at the Great Tree, just after the sun falls behind the mountains. Don't be late!" and with that he flew back down the stone steps and through the gate onto the road.

Bilbo stood in the front door for a moment, eyes wide and mouth slack, before swirling around and stomping back inside. “The absolute nerve of these, these people,” he muttered to himself. Striding through the hall into the sitting room, he slapped the invitation onto a simply furnished stone end table beside a plushy, deep green chair. The chair he flung himself onto while he grumbled for a few more moments about nosey neighbors. _It might not be so bad_ , he thought to himself, _these things do tend to have a way of getting out of hand quickly; perhaps I can go, drink, and slip away quietly_. With that thought, he slapped the arms of the chair and hoped up, determined to prepare for what was sure to be a draining event and hopefully, a short one.

 

* * *

 

 

Several hours and several temper tantrums later, Bilbo had baked a batch of scones, gone through the house to rustle up some gifts, and put on his best clothes. Placing the basket of scones at the foot of the door along with several shoddily wrapped gifts, Bilbo observed himself in the floor length mirror which adorned the left wall. A tired stranger in a purple waist coat stared back at him from within the silver frame. He pulled the thin drawstring on his white pants as tightly as was allowed and tugged at his shirt which was a deeper green that of the evergreens. Shaking his shaggy, brown hair, he quickly grabbed his things and walked out of the door. He deftly stepped down the path from his house which led into the center of the village and, consequently, the Great Tree. He came upon the party slowly, observing the going ons from the shadows cast by the houses and trees. Several small, striped tents—all with the colors of green alternating to brown--had been constructed in a ring below the tree. Smoke sifted out the tops of them, which, he supposed, were food and drink stations. At the center of the ring, on top of a small table covered by a white cloth, was a blue cake, simple and single layered. Beside that cake sat an old, pale cup the color of yellowed bone. _Still not too late to go back home_ , he told himself in apprehension. At that exact moment, a voice hollered his name. Taking a deep breathe, he threw a smile on his face and turned to acknowledge the summons. “Mungo,” Bilbo shouted back, hand in the air in greeting, “what brings you so far from the Misty Mountains*?” The weathered hobbit shuffled over and clasped Bilbo in a firm hug. “Tis not every day a fine lad such as yourself turns fifty, Bilbo! I wanted to see ye. You’re right handsome and smart, too, or so the lads of the Shire tell me. Yer mam would be right proud.” Bilbo pulled his lips into a tight smile and unobtrusively shrugged out of Mungo Harfoot’s grey clad arms. “Thank you, Mungo, but I’m not all that,” Bilbo muttered in embarrassment. “Nonsense,” Mungo cried, “don’t sell yourself short. Why, even _Azaliae_ is here to pay you a visit.” Bilbo’s eyebrows rose almost into his hair at that. Azaliae Foxburr was of the Stoor* hobbits, greatly respected and admired. She was _also_ the Thain, and, as far as Bilbo knew, they’d never met. Mungo must have noted his incredulous expression because he continued, “She knew yer mam, too, Bilbo. She also knows about yer being alone. She says…” here he trailed off. Bilbo stilled and put a hand on the other hobbit’s shoulder. “She says what, Mungo?” Mungo’s blue eyes flickered in the cast off glow of a nearby fire and he murmured, “Ehh, never you mind.” He slide his arm so his hand could grip Bilbo’s and tugged him further into the ring. “Come on, lad. Come eat and drink and be merry!” Bilbo allowed himself to be drawn into the haze of merriment, willing to forget about the old man’s strange words if only for a few hours.

 

A few hours, drinks, and dances later, Bilbo was shoved into the center of the ring and surrounded by a horde of giggling hobbits. He glanced around, noting some faces and wondering at some. They all seemed so happy and content; and he had to swallow a curiously awful lump which had grown in his throat during his observation of them. The cake, he noticed, was all but gone, remembered only by several blue streaks on a crystal plate and around the tablecloth. The odd cup, however, had survived the onslaught of drinking and sat as pristine as before. Unsure as to what he was supposed to do, Bilbo tugged at his waistcoat, which he noted with dismay, was wet with spilt alcohol. A voice rang out from his left, “Gaffer,” the voice cried, “we will have a Céilí*. Strike up a tune!” Bilbo cringed. The Céilí was _the_ mating dance _. It had been..well_ , Bilbo thought _, it had always just_ been. It was a dance for young maids and desperate lads. According to legend, a girl might dance alone and that night dream of her beloved. _This_ , Bilbo told himself, _was no dance for him_. As couples began to form the traditional line, he slowly eased back, hoping to scamper away to his smial in the night. A calloused hand stopped him, and he sighed and drooped his shoulders. “What?” he snapped. “That,” the voice said, “is no way to speak to _me_ , young lad.” The voice— _of course_ , Bilbo thought drolly—belonged to Azaliae Foxburr, the Thain. “Go along, Bilbo Baggins, dance the dance of the ages, and come to me when it is done.” Her pale, wrinkled hands gave him a firm shove, and he stumbled back into the circle. A loud cheer arose, a sweet, clear note was struck upon an old violin, and the dance began. It was a complicated one and most hobbits, despite their propensity to this type of athletics, needed their full concentration to complete it correctly. Bilbo, however, had danced _this_ dance more than most. Through the twists and turns, the twirls and swirls of brightly colored dresses, he kept an eye on the Thain. She was dressed in a pale grey dress which cinched at the waist. A pale pink shawl, fine as the mists which clung to the morning ground, was thrown across her bent shoulders, and her thick, grey hair spilled across her back. Unlike many before her, she wore nothing to signify her status, but she hardly needed it.

 

As the Céilís came to an end, Bilbo found himself next to the table at the center of the circle. Unable to restrain his curiosity, he lifted up the odd looking cup and twisted it around in the firelight. There were no runes or defining marks that he could divine, but there was something about it—its weight perhaps—that called to him oddly. He sat the cup down and glanced around, watching the dismantling of tents and the dispersion of people go back to their smials. He watched in apprehension as Azaliae glided over to him. “Biblo,” she said quietly, “you must take that cup back with you to Bag-End. Draw a drink of water from your well, drink from it, and then go straight to bed.” Bilbo looked at her with surprise in his eyes. “Ms. Azaliae..Thain,” Bilbo stuttered, “I hardly think”—here she interrupted him. “It will give you some clue as to your _mate_ , Mr. Baggins.” “Oh, for Valar’s sake!” Bilbo cried, “Enough. I have had enough of all this..this interest and inspection of my private life. My mate is inconsequential.” She grabbed his arm and gave it a surprisingly fierce tug. An icy feeling spread throughout him as her nails dug into him. “This is no small matter, Bilbo Baggins,” she hissed, “You must find your match. You have a path, a destiny, and an _ill wind_ is coming.” With that she turned and strode away, leaving Bilbo to gasp and fume after her.

 

Grabbing the cup, he stormed away from the Great Tree and ran up the hill, all the way to his front door which was a welcome sight indeed. Stepping through the green door into the darkened hall, he breathed in Bag-End’s calming scent and leaned against the door. A sliver of moonlight snaked in through the window beside the door and touched the cup in his hands. _By the light of the moon_ , he thought with no small amount of amusement. He went to set the cup down in the foyer when he hesitated. _It couldn’t hurt_ , he told himself quietly, and _no one would know if I followed the old hobbit’s instructions_. Making up his mind he padded into the kitchen where a jug of well water sat. He poured water into the cup and spilled some haphazardly onto the sanded counter. _Odd_ , he observed, _my hands are shaking_. Walking quickly, and pretending not to be anxious, he found himself in his bedroom. He sat the cup down on the nightstand, and shrugged out of his dirty clothes and pulled on his nightshirt. Unable to still the pounding of his heart, he swiped the cup and drank the water all in one go. He climbed into his warm, inviting bed and noticed how honestly tired he was. His eyes began to droop, and he slipped off, off into a quiet dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think! Shall I continue? I think I will mostly because I love this pairing. Keep in mind I don't have anyone to read over and correct this as of yet, so I will be reading through the chapters and changing things as I go. Also is my writing alright? Because sometimes I feel like I'm writing like Nathaniel Hawthorne writes his novels and that frightens me hahaha *his short stories are marvelous but just the novels no* 
> 
> I don't own the song which I got my title from. The idea of the dance and drinking from the cup came to me from a poem called "The Eve of St. Agnes" by John Keats. Supposedly, a maiden could perform certain rituals and that night she'd dream of her future husband. The rituals in the poem are: no eating that night, go to bed naked, and lay with her hands under her pillows looking upwards. 
> 
> I also hope you'll pick out some wrong language and anachronisms if you see any. I was just going to talk about Bilbo making biscuits *the American kind* when I realized that it'd probably be closer to a scone in Brit terms *even thought it's really not because I've had both and--well I won't go into all that*
> 
> *Mungo is a branch of the Harfoot hobbits. They live near the Misty Mountains.  
> *Azaliae Foxburr is part of the Stoor branch of hobbits and also the current Thain of the Shire (I'd call her a modern day governor probably). They live near rivers, are usually unafraid of water, and that's what Gollum was, apparently.  
> *A Céilí is a form of Irish folk dancing. I thought the form would work well for the purpose of the dance. It's also Irish *or so my research tells me? correct me if I'm wrong* for a Gaelic social gathering.


	3. A Gambler and a Gambit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wind has come and brought a wizard, a dream, and some odd visitors numbering just thirteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing really up here to say except I don't own anything Tolkien related. If I did, I would not be in college. I would be so far from college that I would be closer to Pluto than college probably. Most likely I would buy myself a spaceship capable of warp speed, and I would be in another galaxy.

A violent storm battered the doors and windows of Bag-End. Rain stabbed at the glass and shrill bursts of sound accompanied the wind which swept over every nook and cranny, attempting to sneak in through the cracks and sink its pointed nails into the hobbit’s flesh as he slept in his bed. Quick whips of lightning followed the steady growl of thunder which, had Bilbo been awake, would have seemed to be knocking his bones as soundly as it knocked the front gate. Bilbo Baggins, however, was decidedly _not_ awake. Bilbo Baggins, despite all his protesting, was a romantic to his _core_ , and he had given in to myth and legend that had been so fiercely promoted by Azaliae Foxburr. He had allowed himself to be taken by the silky hand of Morpheus into an overly bright area within his mind, into a spectacular _dream_. Though all dreams are unalike in their way, this dream was... different—unlike any other dream Bilbo had before experienced.

* * *

  Bilbo found himself in what he could only surmise was a forest, though it was unlike any forest he’d had the privilege of seeing before. The trees gave off a startling glow almost as if a sliver of the moon shone at their cores, and the dew on the grass glittered sharply like diamonds. Shifting his feet, he could feel the dew soak into his calloused feet. Smiling at this sensation, he turned his head and observed a small, stone dais which was the resting place of a small, oval crevice built into the stone. A silver pitcher sat next to it as if waiting for something. Bilbo walked over and hesitantly climbed onto the dais and glanced at the pitcher, noticing that it was full of clear water. Without knowing why he did so, Bilbo grasped the pitcher and tipped it to the right and watched the water sluice down and fill up the crevice until it trickled over the top and spilled out onto the table. He let the pitcher tumble to rest in the soft grass beside his feet and peered into the pool before him which reflected bursts of light that he recognized with shock were stars. They burned so brightly in that flawless mirror he could hardly bare to acknowledge them.

As he blinked, the stars started to fade and give way to a scene colored not by the silver of the night, but by the gold of the sun. Interested, he leaned even closer, his nose skimming the water. Two figures sat in front of a blazing fire. The one on the left was tall with a single plait of fine, silvery hair running down to touch the simple, wooden bench which held them, and he had on a dark robe made of the finest material. Atop his head was a golden circlet with intricate symbols going along the length of it and an intricately designed pearl ring graced the fourth finger of his right hand. The other was small with curly, brown hair and dressed in a plain white shirt and trousers. He, too, had a circlet, but it was modest—like his clothing—and had no marks of any kind. Despite their polarity, they were curled into each other as if they were made for it. Peering at them from across the fire, Bilbo was frustrated to find that he couldn’t make out the faces of the two he observed. He could, however, hear them. “ _Look_ ,” the tall one said and held up his hand to show the other some white, glimmering stones, “ _there are thirteen of these in my hand_. _We cannot keep them all_.” The brown headed one made a sound of frustration, “ _But I_ want _to keep them all_. _I_ like _them_.” The silver haired one hummed in agreement. “ _I know_ ,” he murmured, “ _but to get_ , _we must give_.” He gingerly placed three of the stones into the small one’s hands. “ _Go on_ ,” he said, “ _Cast them into the fire and be done with it_.” The other leaned close, perhaps too close, to the fire and hesitated. He swayed closer, dangerously so. The blonde one made a sound of surprise and a fine hand darted out to viciously jerk the curly headed one back. Bilbo cried out at the harshness of the grip because he felt a similar tug at the base of his neck. As Bilbo fought back, the small one did, too. He wrenched himself out of the taller one’s grip and reached out to the fire. Bilbo reached with him. The silver haired creature let out a cry of alarm and yelled out, “ _Bilbo_! _Don’t_!” With a gasp of surprise, Bilbo stumbled back and found himself back surrounded by moonlight trees and the night. Fearfully, he stepped back and tipped off the raised dais and fell into a thick and cloying darkness.

* * *

 With a violent jerk, Bilbo twisted out of the wreckage of bedding which surrounded him and fell off onto the cold hardwood floor. Breathing heavily, he pressed his face to the cool wood and gave himself a few moments to calm down. The dream had been…unsettling in its clarity, and although Bilbo was certain it was normal to dream about oneself, he was thrown off by it nonetheless. He ruminated on the blonde and recalled his first observation of them as a pair. He wryly remembered calling them “made for each other”. Now knowing that one of the half was him, he felt oddly at sea. _That person must be my..my one_ , he thought in wonder. _It would_ _explain a lot_ , he mused, _having never ventured beyond the borders of the Shire_ , _if my one was a_ _man_ , _of course we_ ’ _d not have the chance to meet_! However, that brought about all sorts of uncertainties and questions. Men weren’t, to his knowledge, granted any sort of identifying mark—save for the odd blemish or two which had no true meaning. Despite that, the hobbit felt himself considering the idea. _Azliae_ did _say I would dream about him this night_ , and, he thought, _if I’m quite honest with myself_ , _I’ve had more than one or two dreams of such fine hair_. Shucking off the last of the covers which tangled about his feet, he hobbled up and shuffled to the window. Flinging it open, he observed the sky which was tinged a bright red with the coming sun. _A red sun rises_ , he mused. “Well,” he said to the open sky, “I shall set about making breakfast and making plans for myself.” With that, he turned from the window, slipped his house coat on, and traipsed into the kitchen.

After a hearty breakfast of sweet ham accompanied by fresh, salted eggs and toast soaked in strawberry marmalade, Bilbo made his way into the sitting room. He grabbed a worn, black book which rested on a shelf next to the fire place and a piece of parchment. The book was a treatise on the world of men and the most recent that Bilbo had. The philosophy, desires, and wars of men held no true interest to him, but it did explain quite a bit about their behavior. Most importantly, it discussed the biggest cities and kingdoms of men which Bilbo would indeed need to visit if he hoped to find his one. He would write down all the best and most likely places for his one to be, in alphabetical order, and visit them each in turn. He reached over onto a nearby table and grabbed a blue bottle of ink and a black feather quill. Flipping slowly through the book, he began to write and make notes on the pages. The scratching of the quill on parchment followed him continuously for an interminable amount of hours, interrupted only by Bilbo refreshing his quill’s ink every so often. Putting a finishing dot on the ‘i’ in the name of the last city he planned to investigate, Bilbo stretched and set the paper and quill aside. The sun was high in the sky, marking the time at not much past midday, and Bilbo intended to run to the market and acquire some food and other supplies. He hopped out the green chair and scampered back into his room to slip on some plain clothes and to ready himself for the market.

 Leaving Bag-End, he ambled down the road and headed for the square. The closer he got to the area of stalls and sellers, the more anxious Bilbo became. He was but a simple, small thing—too naïve of the ways of the world to venture out into it, but he would have to do so. Shaking himself, he squared his shoulders and marched over to the grocer. “Filbin,” he told the hobbit with hair the color of coal, “I need all these, and I want them to be packed and ready within the next hour if you can.” The other hobbit glanced over the list of food items—salt, onions, apples, cheese, bread, ham, and cabbage—which Bilbo handed him and nodded his head. “I reckon I can do it, Mr. Bilbo,” he said with a deep rumble. Nodding, Bilbo turned from him and began to peruse the other stalls. He bought a brown leather sack, good for travel the seller had told him, and a purple handkerchief which was also good for travel, or so Bilbo thought. Feeling famished, he bought a pink, delicious looking apple from a little lass with golden curls. He settled down, off to the side under a tree, to enjoy it. As he finished it and sucked the fresh juice off his fingers, he heard someone call out his name. Turning his head in surprise, he watched as Mungo Harfoot ambled over to him. “Mungo,” he cried, “I didn’t realize you were still hereabouts.” “Well,” the other hobbit said jovially, “I wanted to see little Drogo, and I have some business with ye.” “With me?” Bilbo questioned, “What?” Mungo kicked his foot across the grass. “Well, before she left the party, Azaliae called me over to ‘er. She said you had something—something she give ye. She said to tell ye that if you go anywhere, to take it with ye.” Bilbo stilled. _That thrice-damned cup_ , he thought in exasperation. “Did she say why?” “No,” Mungo answered, “She didn’t say anything else, either.” Bilbo clambered up and grasped Mungo’s arm. “Would you like to come for supper, Mungo?” The other hobbit smiled but shook his head. “Nay, master Baggins, I must be getting back to my own smial. I only wanted to tell you that and wish you a good year that yields a-plenty, cousin.” With that, the other hobbit ambled away, disappearing into the market crowd. Shaking his head, Bilbo made his way back to Filbin and collected his wares.

Soon, he was back at the familiar sight of his front door. Humming to himself, he stepped through and strode into the kitchen, setting everything down onto the counter and walked back through into the sitting room. He shuffled some papers around and made to sit down when he heard a deliberate cough originate from a dark corner of the room. Freezing, eyes wide, he looked in the direction of the sound. Sitting hunched over was what _appeared_ to be a man. He was old, age interminable, and he had a grey beard falling to the middle of his chest which was covered by a long grey robe. In one of his weathered hands was a gnarled, wooden staff and the other grasped a pointed, grey hat that looked the worse for wear. His eyes were a twinkling, forgiving shade of blue, and his lips were wrapped around a grey pipe. “Um, hello?” Bilbo answered in confusion. The man leapt up and said, “Bilbo Baggins! I did not expect to find you gone from your abode this fine morning.” Upon observing Bilbo’s growing confusion, the man continued, “I admit that it has been a rather long time, but I had hoped I’d made a lasting impression on you. Don’t you remember me?” Bilbo squinted at the man, trying to remember. Now that the stranger said it, he did seem familiar. Like fire smacking a match unawares, he suddenly caught a clear memory of the person in question. “Gandalf the Grey!” he cried out. The old man grinned and clasped Bilbo’s hand in a swarthy, firm grip. “Yes, and may you ever remember that from this day forward, Master Baggins.” Bilbo gave a grin back, unsure why he wasn’t alarmed at this invasion of his home. Gandalf possessed an air about him which comforted and claimed to chase shadows away. “What are you doing here?” “Well,” Gandalf began, settling back down into his seat, “I have a…sort of…position that needs filling, Mr. Baggins.” Bilbo hummed to show he was listening. “A position which I feel you could…you ought to try your hand at satisfying, you see.” Bilbo frowned, thinking of his pressing soulmate business. Seeing his facial expression, Gandalf hurried on. “I believe it would do you a great deal of good, Mr. Baggins. I’ve kept a weather eye on you since your mother’s passing, and you’ve been too long cooped up in this dusty house. You’ve read all your books, now you must go live them.” He got up and made his way for the door. Bilbo followed. “Here tonight there will be a meeting with certain individuals, and I insist you listen without judgment.” He flung open the door. “How many individuals, Gandalf?” Bilbo asked half in exasperation and half in anger. “There will be myself and thirteen others, Bilbo.” Bilbo froze and darted out a hand to grasp onto Gandalf’s robe. “Thirteen?” he whispered. Gandalf glanced down in surprise and answered, “Yes, Mr. Baggins, thirteen.” With that, he slipped down the path and disappeared into the evening, leaving Bilbo standing in the round doorway, slack jawed and apprehensive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Strokes non-existent beard* *exaggerated hmmm* I wonder who that silver haired devil could be?? I wonder what those thirteen stones could represent?? *Also, when you picture the stones, picture the ones that are in that box that is shown to Thranduil in the Unexpected Journey because that's what I'm picturing*
> 
> No, but in all honesty, this dream sequence is pretty essential to how the canon will diverge *for the good* in the interest of the dwarves. Bilbo is now on his guard about the number thirteen and the unlucky number three.  
> I'm also sorry that I promised you thirteen visitors and all you got was Gandalf and some random talk about 13 visitors, but the whole deal with Bilbo meeting the company is not something I wanted to spilt up. I felt that the dream, his research, and his visit to the market place was too far removed from them so.
> 
> If there are any mistakes, they'll have to wait because I'm tiiiired.


	4. Over the Hills and Far Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragons, rivers, and maps oh, my.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything, especially the dialog I took from the movie. Literally...like I can call nothing my own except the box of pop-tarts sitting in my kitchen.

Closing the door slowly with no small amount of confusion, Bilbo considered his predicament. Azaliae had told him in plain terms and, he thought, a good deal of ferocity that he _needed_ to find his soulmate. Before speaking to her and even after speaking to her if he was honest, he had felt no true sense of urgency. Yes, it was a humiliating thing, to be alone, and a solitary existence in which hobbits were not meant to partake. However, he hadn’t felt as if anything truly _hinged_ on him completing that bond. Love, though perhaps spectacular, was not anything rare or natural. The mark was a gift, yes, for being Yavanna’s favored sons and daughters, but Elves had their own markings as did dwarves. As for men, he had thought they had none, but with his knew found knowledge he was no longer so sure. Still, marking or no, love was a boundless quantity. Not having a mate was odd, yes, but it had occurred before. His lack of it couldn’t be something to be remarked upon unless it was the occasional murmur of suspicion or pity. As time had gone on without a peep from his one, most assumed that either he or she had died young or died in the womb and left it at that. _No_ , he said to himself, _it_ ’ _s an odd thing_ — _Azaliae_ ’ _s interest in all this_.  He walked into the kitchen and grabbed an old, tan rag to wipe off the counters and considered Gandalf’s strange appearance and even stranger words. “Thirteen strangers,” he hummed to himself. _Was it mere coincidence or something more_ , he wondered, _that I would dream of thirteen stones and receive thirteen strangers the next day_. “Well,” he answered himself, “there’s clearly only one way to know and that’s to do as Gandalf says. Besides, even if there is no connection, I might still perform a service for Gandalf. This group might be traveling and if so I could go with them, search for a silvery-haired man, and receive protection and compensation in the process.” With a nod of finality, he laid the rag across a metal rung beside the kitchen window overlooking the sink and started placing bowls along the counter. _It_ ’ _s a good thing that Gandalf told me of this little meeting_ , he said to himself, _or I wouldn_ ’ _t have a meal ready of that size_. He made a mental list of all the foods he wanted to make and began to mix flour for a large pan of sweetbread. After mixing the dough, he left it to set and made his way for the small, though convenient icehouse* located not twenty paces from his smial. From the icehouse he grabbed a bucket of fish he’d bought from the local market three days before and went back in the house to prepare them for frying. He worked continuously and conscientiously on the meal throughout the evening and didn’t notice the sun slip down behind the earth nor did he notice the moon slowly climb up to take its place.

Bilbo was just putting a finishing dash of sugar on the toasted apples he was to serve for dessert when he heard a thump against the door resound through Bag-End. Squaring his shoulders, he padded through the house and hesitated at the front door. He reached out a tiny hand, grasped the knob, and flung open the door. With a frown of surprise he greeted the visitor with a questioning hello. The visitor stepped in from the night, and Bilbo got a decent look at the first of thirteen. It was a dwarf, a rather tall one, if Bilbo was any sort of judge. He was dressed in a thick, brown coat which fell to his ankles and covered chain mail he wore on his chest. He had weapons secured on his back, an axe with a handle of dark wood and a thick, silver knife with a black hilt. His trousers, which were black, were tucked into boots made of some animal hide, deer if Bilbo had to hazard a guess. Strapped to those was another knife smaller in size than the one at his back. The dwarf himself was covered in tattoos, intricate ones filled up the space where hair had once been, some seemed to run into the lining of his beard which was dark and thick and fell halfway down his chest. His eyes were electric brown, spitting out a kind of seriousness to which Bilbo was unaccustomed. As Bilbo’s eyes ended their observation, the dwarf growled out, “Looked yer fill, laddie?” Bilbo started and blushed a light pink, “Um..er..I’m sorry, Mr. dwarf. I’m—ah—I’m Bilbo Baggins, at your service.” Bilbo gave a quick bow and straightened back up. The dwarf nodded and replied, “Dwalin, at your service.” Bilbo nodded briskly and said, “Well, Mr. Dwalin, would you like to eat—here let me take those, er, fine weapons—just go in there to the left, food is on the kitchen table.” He watched Dwalin make his way into the kitchen and then dumped the weapons on a bench which was sidled up the wall. He followed Dwalin and sat awkwardly beside him at the wooden table which nearly filled up the hallway. Dwalin had filled his plate from the assortment of food which Bilbo had compiled, and Bilbo watched him messily consume the food in apprehension and slight distaste. _Oh_ , **_dear_** , he thought in despair as Dwalin burped loudly and wholly forwent his dining utensils. Just as he began to open his mouth and fill the awkward space with conversation, someone else knocked at the door.

“Right,” Bilbo muttered, “I’ll just go get that.” He hurriedly made his way back into the front and opened the door to let in the next visitor. The next was a dwarf as well, though not as fierce in appearance. He was smaller, about Bilbo’s height, and older. He wore a black cloak which didn’t allow Bilbo to observe much else about his clothing or potential weaponry. His hair was white and his beard, which fell to about mid-stomach, was even whiter; Bilbo had a ridiculous urge to reach out and stroke it, though even he knew that would be a social mistake. Silver and blue beads were woven into the side of his hair and beard. His eyes were blue, hot blue, like the kind at the core of a deep fire, but they smiled at him from beneath shaggy, white eyebrows. The dwarf held out an old hand and said, “Balin son of Fundin, at your service.” The young hobbit grabbed the hand and shook it happily, “Bilbo Baggins, at yours, Mr. Balin. Come in.” Balin gave him a quite smile and stepped into the cozy room. As Balin was making his introductions to Bilbo, Dwalin had come into the room and gave a great shout upon seeing the new arrival. “Brother!” the dark one cried, “It has been two changings of the moon since last we met.” He grabbed the older dwarf, butted his head gently, and pulled him into a fierce hug. Bilbo waved his hand between the two and said, “Oh, so you two…”, but before he could continue, Dwalin had pulled Balin down the hallway into the room which held the dining table. Bilbo clasped his hands together and muttered, “Right, okay then.” Just as he made to follow them, another knock came at the door. Bilbo sighed loudly and exclaimed, “Will they all be arriving one by one? Will I be a butler in my own house?” He wrenched open the door and a pile of dwarves fell in, nearly collapsing on top of him. Bilbo’s wide eyes trailed from one grey haired dwarf across the sea of bodies and up to meet the sheepish eyes of Gandalf the Grey. The wizard gave a tiny shrug and stepped into Bag-End, nimbly navigating his way around the dwarves who were scrambling off his floor. “Gandalf,” Bilbo began hurriedly as he watched the dwarves amble off in the direction of his table. “Hmm?” came the sound out of the wizard as he turned around and smacked the back of his head right into Bilbo’s chandelier. “Blast!” Gandalf cursed. A young dwarf with light brown hair came walking back into the foyer and asked Bilbo, “Where should I put these, Mister Gandalf?” he nodded his head down at the mass of weapons which wobbled threateningly in his hands. Bilbo nodded to the bench and winced as the dwarf plunked them down and sauntered off back to the food. “Come along, Bilbo,” Gandalf said and followed the unnamed dwarf. Bilbo fell behind and came upon a scene that filled him with horror. The newcomers had desecrated the table. Food was everywhere; some bits of something which Bilbo hesitated to identify clung to the ceiling. The dwarves were in high spirits, however, and were laughingly uproariously, talking and shoving. _Bloody animals_ , Bilbo thought in pure astonishment. Gandalf looked at him and laughed at the expression on his face. He, too, grabbed a plate and joined in with the dwarves. Bilbo darted a hand out to grab the last one of his apples— _they were for dessert_!—and went to sit in the kitchen where he could observe the group without having to partake.

He grumbled to himself for a few minutes before he noticed something about them. Gandalf had arrived, but only ten visitors had come with him. He got up and was about to question the wizard when a startlingly hard knock came at the door. The entire group fell silent and looked at the hobbit. Bilbo blinked owlishly back. “Um, I’ll just go get that, shall I?” he murmured and darted to the door, happy to be away from their inspection. He opened the door, mouth already forming a greeting and saw who was on the other-side. Three dwarves looked at him as he stopped, mouth parted in surprise. _Three_ , he thought in worry and awe, three _dwarves out of a company of_ thirteen _arriving late to a meeting_ … _with_ me. His eerie dream flashed behind his eyes as he recalled three glimmering stones held next to an open fire. “Aren’t you going to let us in, Mr. Hobbit?” one asked cheerily. The other two just raised eyebrows at him. “Er,” Bilbo stuttered, “yes, come in, come in. Bilbo Baggins, at your service.” Two of the dwarves, younger than the third Bilbo surmised, bowed in unison and said. “Fili and Kili, at your service.” Fili was blonde with dark brown streaks running through his long hair and even longer beard. He was certainly attractive, Bilbo mused. Kili was shorter, though not by much, and he had thick hair black as bear’s fur. His eyes sparkled mischievously out from underneath thin, arched brows.  Curiously, he had no true beard, but Bilbo made no comment or query about that. The other was dark, too, like Kili. However, some grey streaked through the dark, and he had a few beads woven into his beard. Tired, dark blue eyes trailed over Bilbo from the as yet unnamed dwarf’s handsome face. He made a short dip of his head at Bilbo. Gandalf came up behind him and said, “Ah, Bilbo, this is Thorin Oakenshield, King under the mountain.” Bilbo gave a deep bow and backed away. “Thorin,” the wizard continued, “this is to be your fourteenth member.” The king snorted and glanced in derision at the hobbit, and Bilbo jerked his head with no small amount of affront. Sensing an argument, the wizard put his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and guided the dwarven king to the table. Upon his entry, the other dwarves stood up. Gandalf pointed to each one and named them, but Bilbo was too busy glaring daggers at the king’s back to really absorb that information. He grumpily pulled a stool from outside the room and sat behind the others as they settled down, and the three stragglers made themselves plates. Dwalin asked Thorin about a meeting to which Thorin replied in the negative. His answer seemed to bring down the mood of the table for he continued in a lighter voice, “It is of no matter, others have seen the signs. Life is coming back into the mountain. If we can accomplish what we go to accomplish, Dain will assist us.” A grumble went around the table.

As the three dwarves finished eating, Gandalf drew himself up and began to talk. “I have called you all here to offer you my help,” looking at Bilbo he continued, “You want to take back your homeland. You’ll need my help and my advice. I believe that if you can get into the mountain, you’ll need a burglar. This hobbit, Bilbo, is just the one for the job.” Bilbo drew back and made a face. The dwarves all swiveled to face him in disbelief. Bilbo swiveled to look at Gandalf. “He would sneak into the Misty Mountains and skulk around a dragon’s hoard?” Dwalin asked in clear disbelief. Bilbo drew back even further and felt his eyebrows try to jump into his hair. “Dragon!” the hobbit exclaimed. “Yes, well,” Gandalf said and waved a hand, “hobbits are quick and quite. Besides, the dragon is rumored to be sleeping. Bilbo is quite capable.” As Gandalf turned to face the dwarves once more, Bilbo shook his head at them. One dwarf—Oin, Bilbo thought—with a golden instrument held up to his ear, leant forward and asked Bilbo, “How many dragons you snuck around, boy?” Bilbo hesitated then answered, “Um, none?” With a shout Oin exclaimed, “See, lads! The boy said some!” At this the table broke out in uproar and arguments. After a few moments, Gandalf jumped up and slammed his hand down onto the table. Shadows seemed to shroud him and he roared, “ENOUGH! IF I SAY BILBO BAGGINS IS A BURGALAR, THEN A BURGALAR HE IS!” He gave a shrewd and intimidating glance at the dwarves, and they all settled back down with trepidation. He settled back down, and the shadows slipped away, replaced by the light from the overhead candles and Gandalf’s soothing presence. “Well,” Balin said after a few, silent moments, “if the lad can, he will.” He pulled out a thick piece of parchment and handed it to Bilbo. “That, my boy, is a contract of service.” Bilbo took it and began to read. “Seems legitimate,” he muttered to himself. “Laceration…incineration!?” he said incredulously and looked back at the company. “Oh, ai,” said a dwarf—Bofur—with a black hat, “we are going up against a dragon.” Bilbo tilted his head in acknowledgment. Turning from the group, he put his hand on his chin and thought. _I could go with them and help_. _My priority would not be finding my one_ , at this he ached a little inside, _but has it ever really been_? _Perhaps even if I found this man, he would not even want me_. _He certainly hasn_ ’ _t been trying that hard to find me_. _I could not turn down the promise of real adventure for a mere dream_. Nodding with finality, he strolled into his sitting area and picked up the quill he’d been using earlier. Before he could stop himself, he scrawled his signature across the bottom of the contract and walked it back to the others. He brandished in front of Balin and said, “Alright, I’ll go.” Balin smiled at him, and Gandalf clapped him on the back with no small amount of enthusiasm. Bilbo nodded and shuffled back, watching as the dwarves got up and began to clean the room and take their plates into the kitchen. “Oh,” he flustered, “I can do that.” Kili flashed him a smile, “No need, Mr. Boggins,” he said cheerfully, “you cooked, we’ll clean.”

After a moment, Bilbo conceded defeat and crept away from the milling dwarves out the door and went to sit beside the ice-house. After some time, he went back into the house and crept silently in the kitchen, stepping over sleeping dwarves. As he went into the kitchen, he stopped upon seeing Gandalf and Thorin Oakenshield talking quietly at his small table. They both looked up as he entered. Before he could make his excuses and exit, Gandalf pulled out the cup Azaliae had given him and placed it upon the table in front of him. Bilbo frowned and looked at the wizard in irritation. “Snooping around in my room, eh, Gandalf?” The wizard waved a dismissive hand, “Never mind that, Bilbo, where did you get this?” For some reason, Bilbo felt hesitant to answer truthfully in front of the dwarf. “From a…friend.” Gandalf pressed on, “Did this…friend give any reason for gifting it to you?” Bilbo wordlessly shook his head. Gandalf hummed under his breath and was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Do you know what this is?” Bilbo raised an eyebrow and said, “It appears to be a cup, Gandalf.” Glancing at the dwarf, Bilbo saw a twitch of his lips. Gandalf huffed in exasperation and continued, “This is what elves call “olos yulma” or a dream cup. They say that at the beginning of the First Age there was a river near Cuiviénen called “Sírë o Húmë” or river of sleep. The elves carved out utensils from the bones of the earth. Some used cups, such as this one, and dipped them into the river and drew water from it. Supposedly, they drank it and slept under starlight to dream of the future. Yet, here you tell that a mere _friend_ just _gave_ you this cup…for no reason.” Gandalf scrutinized Bilbo as he fidgeted. “Well,” Bilbo started, “weeelll…it was a very good friend.” Gandalf snorted and stood up, stooping underneath Bilbo’s short ceiling. “I will find out what you are hiding, Bilbo Baggins.” With those parting words, he made his way from the kitchen down the hall into Bilbo’s spare bedroom which, Bilbo observed wryly, he’d told no one about. The dwarf king arose as well. He stopped before Bilbo and said, “I would like to thank you, Mr. Baggins, not only for accompanying us on this journey, but for opening your home to us. Many thanks.” He nodded and began to walk away but stopped and turned back around to add, “Get some sleep, Mr. Baggins, I fear that tomorrow will be rather a long day for all of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I can't recall any mention of ice-houses or anything of the like in the Tolkien-verse. However, it's been suggested that they've been around since before 1100 B.C. They were still in use in Tolkien's time. Also, a lot of middle earth's societies were progressive. They couldn't live on a day-by-day basis, thus the storage of food, so I feel like it's reasonable to suggest that people would have them in middle earth, and Bilbo is well-off enough to have his own.
> 
> I honestly have no idea if this is right, correct me if I'm wrong.  
> Quenya:  
> *sírë o húmë-river of sleep  
> *olos yulma-dream cup
> 
> I made up the stuff about the river, although the place, Cuiviénen, is real within the Tolkienverse.


	5. Some Fresh-sown Moonstone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And some fresh-sown moonstone  
> Was messing with his frozen zone  
> Reminding him of romance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The company asks a bunch of questions about Bilbo. Bilbo asks a bunch of questions about the Durins. And Gandalf just talks and talks and fusses.

Bilbo plopped himself down onto a damp log as the company paused to eat breakfast. Thorin wasn't exaggerating about it being a rather long day, Bilbo grumbled to himself. Rustling through his brown rucksack, he produced a pack of strawberries which he'd been growing in his garden at Bag-End*. He grabbed one and began to greedily chew at its red flesh. He ate three more, and when he put them away, his mouth was stained a rusty, red color. He took a swig from his canteen and began to lean back for a quick nap when the others rustled around, putting their quick meals back into their packs. The hobbit gave them all a quizzical look as Thorin started to untie his black pony from a fallen tree. He tugged on Gandalf's elbow and hissed, “We bloody well just sat down. I didn't even get a chance to rest my feet. I only ate a handful of strawberries." Gandalf huffed and whispered back, “This is a journey, not a garden party, and you'd better get used to it, Bilbo Baggins." Bilbo drew back in horror, “But what about second breakfast?*" he croaked out in response. Gandalf merely rolled his eyes and swanned away to the front of the party.

_Bloody_ , _damn savages_ , Bilbo thought as he scrambled onto his pony, Myrtle, and fell into line behind Bofur and near Fili and Kili. He watched the brothers, noting their casual affection, and wondered at their connection to Thorin. Kili nudged Fili and pulled the reins on his mount, letting Bofur pass by them to fall in step with the hobbit. They rode quietly for a short time before Kili asked innocently, “So, Mr. Boggins, you live alone, do you?” Bilbo frowned as he heard Fili hiss, “Kili!” “I do, yes. Why do you ask, Master Kili?” Kili flashed him a bright smirk, “None of that, _Master_ Boggins, call me Kili. As for the question, it was mere…dwarven curiosity.” “Well then, yes, I live quite on my own.” Kili raised a dark eyebrow, “No mate then?” Bilbo gave a slightly bitter smile, “None that I’ve had the pleasure to meet.” He noticed the brothers trade quick glances before Fili asked, “Do the halflings not have marks then? We’d heard…well we’d heard rather little of your people before we came to the Shire, and we’ve learned only a little since leaving.” The hobbit hesitated, but only briefly, before answering quietly, “Yes, we have marks. All those of age in the Shire have found their match…save for myself.” The dwarves fell silent as the ponies plodded along, trotting through a never-ending forest. Swallowing and giving them a brief, if fake, smile, Bilbo asked, “And what about dwarves? Do the children of Aule have any help finding their ones? Or must they fumble in the dark like the children of Men?” Not commenting on the obvious change of subject, Fili merely replied, “Yes, we get a name.” Bilbo started and burst out, “Well! That must be _quite_ useful, all things considered. Hobbit pairs have matching..images.” Fili grinned and said, “We each get the _true_ name of our one tattooed upon us, Master Baggins.” Bilbo just stared blankly back. Fili continued, “Each dwarf is born with a name he tells the world and one he keeps. None but mated pairs know their true names, not even the parents.” Bilbo furrowed his lip and replied, “Ah, that makes the situation a mite more difficult than I previously thought. How are you to ever figure it all out, then?” Kili nudged Bilbo with his elbow, “And just how are _you_ to figure it all out, Mr. Boggins?” The hobbit shifted uncomfortably but answered, “We’re supposed to feel a burning where our marks are when we’ve…found the one,” here Bilbo looked down and his lips pulled to the side, “or so they say, I’ve really not looked too much into it.”

Before either dwarves could say anything in return, Bofur pulled back and asked Bilbo, “Mr. Baggins, what exactly did ye do, in the Shire I mean. I saw some shops around and a forgery, but I didn’t see anything likely to fit _you_.” Three dark pairs of eyes waited for a response while Bilbo tried not to squirm under their gaze. “I am a gentle-hobbit, Master Bofur, I just lived.” A snort came from ahead of them, and the redheaded dwarf—Gloin, Bilbo’s memory supplied—turned in his saddle to say, “Didn’t seem like you were doin’ much living to me, halfing. I didn’t even see any ale or mead in your pantry.” Bilbo scowled rather viciously and snapped, “My _name_ is Bilbo, Master Baggins to you, and I had wine, thank you very much.” Gloin scoffed and waved a calloused hand in the air, “Ach, wine that might make a field mouse tipsy, if it were a baby. You’ve not lived much yet, Master Baggins, I bet my axe on _that_.” Before Bilbo could protest, the dwarf had turned around and urged his tan pony to weave through the others and walk alongside of Nori’s brown one. Bilbo lowered his head and considered the idea that the redheaded dwarf might be right. He didn’t even know his own mate. The brothers must have noticed his unease for they soon drew him into safer territory and answered any and all questions Bilbo asked of them. He quickly learned of each dwarf’s life and family connections—including their own. It hardly surprised him that Fili and Kili were nephews of the dwarf king. The three favored each other, in manner if not in looks. In observing the three, he’d be an idiot not to notice the connection: three stones and three brothers. _There’s nothing I can do about all that now_ , Bilbo told himself, _I can hardly protect them_ , _and I don’t even know what I shall be protecting them from_ , _though the dragon is a safe bet_. _I don’t know of anything that can protect against a dragon_ ’ _s fire_. Dismissing his fears, he allowed himself to get lost in the harmony of Fili and Kili’s conversation as they continued their journey onward.

* * *

 

What felt like several years later but was only several hours, according to Gandalf, the company finally stopped at a small alcove carved into the side of a mountain. It overlooked a wide expanse of some forest or other that Bilbo could have cared less about the name of when they stopped. His bones cracked, and his back ached from riding Myrtle. He refused to complain, however. He gratefully accepted an apple that Bofur handed to him. As he munched on it, the wizard strode over and plopped himself down beside Bilbo. He began to regale Bilbo with information about their journey, and the places they had already been. He trailed off for a moment before bringing up Bilbo’s cup. Bilbo rolled his eyes and continued to eat, not having the energy to pay attention to the wizard’s long explanation of “dream cups” or pretty elves who’d made them.

“That’s not we dwarves call it,” Thorin said to him suddenly. Bilbo startled slightly and raised an inquiring eyebrow in response, he’d not even noticed the dwarf make his way over to where Bilbo and Gandalf had seated themselves. “Your dream cup,” the dwarf king continued, “that’s not what my kin call them.” “Well,” Bilbo prompted, “what do your people call them?” Thorin turned his gaze from the cup to Bilbo and stared a cool moment before answering, “We call them moonstone. The elves carved them from the moon’s leftover flesh, after the moon rose from the new sea to adorn the sky. That’s the legend, anyway. Even if it isn’t real moonflesh, it’s still rarer than any gem my kin could dig out of my home in Erebor.” Bilbo felt odd and asked another question, “What does dwarven legend say about the moon?” Thorin ran a dirty finger down the cup’s side before answering, “In dwarf lore, a dragon, so old as to be unnamable, flew over the sea searching for a mate. He would settle for nothing less than a light great as his own. One day, he found himself at the heart of the ocean, and there the moon slept—shining from beneath blankets of waves. He swooped down and rolled her onto his back, but she was too heavy. The dragon was forced to rip pieces off, and as he flew away with her some parts of her fell back down into the rivers,” he glanced away from the cup into the dim glow of the fire before saying, “That’s what your cup is made of,” the dwarf snorted and added, “supposedly.” He pushed himself up and went to his bedding—Gandalf followed—unaware of just how much his story had affected the little hobbit. Bilbo blinked rapidly after the King Under the Mountain and placed the cup underneath his breast. He felt its cold form rub against his mark and shuddered. He glanced around hurriedly, taking note of who was on watch—Bofur and Gloin—and Gandalf—supposedly asleep underneath a tree, a few paces to his right—before tipping a splash of water from his leather canteen into the cup _. It couldn’t do any harm_ , he reassured himself, _I only want to_ see. Looking around again, just to be sure, he didn’t see any of the company watching him. He downed the water from the cup in a swift, jerking movement; then, he shoved the cup back into his sack before curling up underneath his blanket. He watched the stars, cataloging their faces, until they slowly slipped away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter comes from the song "Blinded By The Light" 
> 
> Sorry this chapter is kinda boring and short. It's a filler chapter, basically.  
> Bilbo didn't have much time in between having the dream and Gandalf to really think about what it means that his "one" is out there, but as he's beginning to see, a lot of this adventure involves quite a bit of quiet travel and less distracting adventure.
> 
> *This is important because it's a time indicator. Strawberry growing season is usually June-August. I absolutely can't stand reading something when I don't know the time. I hate movies like that, too. Like in the LOTR movies, you're like "wow, they got that ring to that mountain in like 2 days". It drives me crazy when artistic pieces don't show a time change explicitly. Anyway, keep in mind that they're leaving the Shire in the summer lol.  
> *Homage to LOTR
> 
> I totally made the whole "moon legend" up. Fuck, I made like everything up. Except for the universe and the characters..Christ, I'm a thief.  
> I don't have a beta so if there are mistakes, I will look over and fix them later.


	6. A Taste of Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all rather boring until it's not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is too short, but school has just started back. So just..bear with me! They'll get longer once we get to Elrond's house. Right now it's just your basic blah blah yes dwarves sure wizards and trolls and evil necromancers. 
> 
> Also, there's just a tiny, tiny hint of possible Fili/Kili. I don't ship it, but I do find it odd that three!trolls took some ponies from them while they were supposed to be on "guard" duty. So. Yeah, it's there if you squint and imply.

The looming darkness of the sky ran parallel with the general mood of the company, and Bilbo's even more so. Late in the night, the clouds had swollen to their capacity and burst into a torrential rainfall during that brief, but dark limbo of time wherein the sun makes its way past the moon to resume its daily duty. Even now, midday, the water continued to shoot down like tiny arrows and smack against them incessantly. Bilbo pulled his coat closer as the wet seeped through the thin fabric of his shirt to settle uncomfortably on his skin _. I should have brought a rain jacket_ , he thought with no small amount of exasperation.

He wrapped his hands tighter around Myrtle’s reins as the pony slightly stumbled, knocking its pink nose into the saddle bag of Bofur’s cream colored pony, Gertie. The dwarf turned to cock an eyebrow at Bilbo, and the hobbit just heaved an exasperated sigh before shaking his head. They continued their trek through trees and muck along the forest floor until the evening at which time the dwarf king called for a much welcomed halt. Bilbo wearily climbed down from the saddle and reached into his sack for his canteen as he allowed Ori to guide Myrtle a few paces from their group to a tree with the other mounts. As Bilbo munched on some crackers which had survived the rough travel, he observed Ori making his way back to him with an eager look in his pale green eyes.

“Mr. Bilbo,” the young dwarf asked with badly concealed eagerness, “I was wondering…did you have any dreams last night?” Bilbo raised a thin, dark eyebrow in surprise to which Ori followed with, “I saw you drink out of the dream cup, Master Baggins. I’ve read about them. Did you then?—have any dreams, that is.”

Bilbo hesitated and pulled his lip into a bite with his teeth. He thought about the tumultuous dream which the cup had, supposedly, brought him. Trying to remember his dreams was rather like trying to remember getting a certain injury or rolling down a hill, you know you’ve done it, but the whole process was rather muddled if you try to think about it. He also felt wary of sharing anything so intimate with a stranger, despite his intuition telling him that his dreams were, in some way, connected to the strangers with which he traveled. _Still_ , Bilbo considered, _Ori_ ’ _s an alright sort_ , _and I can_ ’ _t see him making more headway with my mind than me_. _It couldn_ ’ _t hurt to tell the lad_. “I dreamt about a great, hulking bear and a large underground pool of thick, yellow water rippling continuously. That part is clear, but other things…other things I can only catch flashes of.” Before the dwarf could form a reply, Bofur called him away. Giving Bilbo an apologetic grimace, Ori jogged back across the grass to where the other dwarves were located.

 

Bilbo shrunk farther away from the company into the shadows of a great pine tree. Their resting place was fairly clear of trees though abundant in bushes, and on a grassy knoll, protruding unnaturally from the earth, was a dilapidated shack. The more Bilbo looked at it, the more his heart raced. A feeling of dread had settled in his bones, and it laced around his heart. Shifting his sack onto his hip, Bilbo walked over to Gandalf who stood a few feet from the shack itself.

“I don’t think we should stay here,” Bilbo murmured at Gandalf’s side. The wizard gave a deep hum and looked down. The hobbit squirmed uncomfortably under that blue, penetrating gaze. The wizard swirled around and rounded on Thorin.

“I do not believe we should rest here, Thorin Oakenshield. A foul air lingers about this place.” Thorin raise a dark eyebrow and replied, “This place is as good as any. My people are weary. We will rest this night and carry on tomorrow.” Gandalf huffed and drew himself up to loom over the dwarf king. “Fine, if you insist on taking leave of your senses, I will go seek respite with those who will keep them.” The wizard strode from the company as several amused and confused dwarves along with a worried hobbit watched him slip away from their sight into the thicket which grew seemed to mirror the sky in darkness.

The others drifted back around a small campfire which had sprung up with the help of Nori and Dori while Bilbo had been at Gandalf’s side. A black pot of soup sat suspended over the flames. Bombur ladled it out into crude, wooden bowls and handed them out amongst the company as Bilbo watched. He jumped slightly when he felt something nudge his elbow. It was Bofur with two soup bowls in his hands.

“Take these to the lads, will ya? They’re just through the trees to your left guarding the ponies.” The dwarf shoved the bowls at Bilbo before he could decline. Sighing in defeat, he turned and ambled off through the trees into a patch of smaller trees to see Fili and Kili staring blankly into the night.

Bilbo clambered over a rotten log to stand between them. He frowned in confusion as they failed to acknowledge him and instead kept peering off into the darkness ahead. Slowly he asked, “What are you doing?” Kili gulped loudly and whispered, “Playing hide and seek with the ponies. So far, they’re winning.” Fili leaned over and swatted at his dark haired brother before answering, “Three ponies are missing, and look,” here he pointed at an oak tree which had been ripped out of the earth, “that didn’t just fall over.”

“Wait, you’re telling me,” Bilbo asked as he waved a bowl around in the air, “that three ponies went missing and a tree got _ripped_ out of the ground whilst you were _supposed_ to be watching them? What were you _doing_?”

The brothers quickly glanced at each other before replying in unison, “Nothing.” Bilbo gave them a suspicious look and rolled his lips into a disbelieving scowl. “Anyway,” Kili said hurriedly, grabbing both bowls from the hobbit’s hands, “You’re small and quiet. You’re a _burglar_. Just…go through those trees and look for them.” Kili shoved Bilbo forward as Fili nodded vigorously in agreement and added, “Yes, just go through there, and call out if you have need of us.

With a squawk of indigation, Bilbo stumbled forward. He regained his balanced and turned to berate the two dwarves, but they had disappeared. Admitting defeat, he crouched low and crept through the trees, staying close to the shadows. After only a few moments, he heard muffled voices coming from what he assumed was a smaller clearing which the company had happened upon earlier. Clenching his jaw and steeling himself, he crept even closer—taking note of a fierce glow shining out behind the bushed which obscured his view. Trembling, his hand slowly slid along the leaves of fern and cautiously pulled it back.

 _I knew it_ ; he thought with a sort of stunned spite, _I bloody well knew it_!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I have any mistakes, I'll just fix 'em later. Thanks :)


	7. Dwarf Soup and Homely Homes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's not exactly a matter of running into trouble," Kili had told him, "It's a matter of...trouble running into us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything. Sigh

His second thought wasn’t exactly a conscious thought; it was more of an instinct. _Run_ , his body told him. _Run_ because before him crouched three humongous trolls. They were hideous to look upon. Their skin looked like tan leather, left in the sun too long, stretched too thin across bodies too big.  On each creature it cracked in some places leaving oozing sores at the corners of their elbows, mouths, and knees. None had any hair that Bilbo could see, and the only distinguishing feature amongst them was size. A smallish one sat slightly away from the other two, facing Bilbo’s position, on the ground propped against a fallen oak tree. The other two menacingly crowded around a blazing bonfire which held a cauldron big enough… _big enough_ , his mind supplied, _to boil a **horse**_. Bilbo’s eyes, glittering off the light of the fire, dart over to a crude, yet efficient, cage made of tree limbs atop boulders. The hobbit makes a low whine in his throat upon seeing the missing ponies inside of it. _Naturally_ , his mind races, _of course_. **_Of course_** _the ponies go missing because Fili and Kili are doing Yavanna knows what_ , _and **of course** the ponies end up with bloody trolls_! He wiped his sweaty palms against his trousers; the roughness of the fabric seemed to ground him. He took a deep breath and began to creep along the edge of the troll’s camp towards the makeshift cage. He took great care to move with the shadows and not step too heavily on the earth. When he reached the cage, Bilbo realized it wasn't _exactly_ a cage, not really. The tree limbs created a post to tie the ponies to, yes, but it had no back. _Easy enough for them to run away_ , Bilbo mused, _if I can untie them_. The ponies weren’t tied with the halters that the dwarves had used, however. They were tied with thick, rough rope as wide as Bilbo’s arm, perhaps wider.

Glancing to make sure the trolls were occupied— _arguing over bloody soup_!—Bilbo began to work furiously at the rope’s knot. After a few moments and no progress, the hobbit stopped, and a silver gleam caught at the corner of his eye. He looked again and saw what appeared to be a knife swinging at the side of the smaller troll. Hesitating, but only for a moment, Bilbo crept even closer, going behind the fallen tree and climbing over it. He wrapped both hands around the crudely shaped hilt and tried to dislodge it from its sheath. Putting all his strength into it, his muscles strained, hands ache, and sweat formed on his forehead and back. The knife shifted to left…perhaps an inch. He removed his hands in defeat as his whole body slumped against the log while trying to slowly lean away.

Suddenly, a large hand swept back and in his haste to avoid it, Bilbo slipped forward off of the oak and tumbled onto the ground beside the troll with a loud yelp. For a moment, Bilbo’s heart drowned out the sounds of the forest, the fire, and the hideous creatures around him. In the next, however, sounds filtered back into his ears as he felt himself being dragged up, up, into the air. He tried to escape the cold, clammy hand of the small troll as its dirty, jagged nails pinched at the hobbit’s skin.

“What is it?” the one to the left asked in a slightly annoyed voice. “I don’t know,” the small one said, then asked Bilbo, “What are you?” Bilbo opened his mouth but couldn’t speak. It felt like his heart was blocking the words. The troll gave him a good shake, and Bilbo screamed. _Where the bloody fucking hell are Fili and Kili_ , he thought as panic flashed throughout him. Just as the trolls began to argue about eating now or saving him for later, a loud commotion came from behind them— _Kili_ , he thought hopefully—and a familiar voice gave a tremendous shout, “DROP HIM!” Bilbo felt himself fall and lightly bounce on the springy moss below. He scrambled away to the side as Kili leapt forward and stabbed the small troll in the foot.

It gave a great howl which must’ve attracted the rest of the company because the next thing Bilbo knew, the others had joined the fray of twirling trolls and daring dwarves who stabbed at the trolls and ran around them when they couldn’t. The hobbit crawled over to the ponies and with the help of a particularly sharp rock, freed them. Despite the commotion, Bilbo gave a satisfied smile at having accomplished his task. His satisfaction was short lived, however, as he felt a great tug to his heel, and he was being lifted in the air again. The hobbit found himself looking down at the dwarves in a position which, he noted, was prime for tearing hobbits in half. He gulped as the trolls asked the dwarves to throw down their weapons, and the dwarves, with no small amount of reluctance, complied.

Not half an hour later, he found himself bound and set aside with the company while Bofur, Dwalin, and Bifur were roasted— _alive_!—on the spit above the trolls’ bonfire. He looked at Thorin and was quite glad that looks couldn’t kill because his eyes seemed to foretell a bloody murder. “This is your damned fault!” the dwarf king hissed. Bilbo’s mouth fell open and he tried to draw himself up in indignation, but only succeeded in rolling awkwardly against Balin. “It’s not _my_ fault. I was listening to your damned _nephews_!” the hobbit snapped back. Balin gave an irritated huff and whispered, “Hush, the both of you. There’s nothing to be gained in pointing fingers.” Bilbo narrowed his eyes at the dwarf king before rolling them and concentrating on the disturbing scene in front of him. The trolls seemed quite happy despite the loss of the ponies and were content to exalt over the fight and their new meal back and forth amongst themselves.

“I say we just eat ‘em raaaaawww,” the littler one drawled. Bilbo tensed and the dwarves began to shout as it grabbed Bombur by the bread and hauled him up into the air. “Wait!” Bilbo shouted. The troll huffed and turned to look over at Bilbo whilst Bombur still swayed precariously over the creature’s gaping maw. Bilbo rolled over and hopped away from the group and ahead of them. “You see,” the hobbit began hesitantly, “you see…dwarves are rather tough. Their skin is tougher than a dragon’s hid almost and well…” One of the trolls coaxed him on, “Yes?” Bilbo swallowed and said, “You have to cook dwarf just right otherwise…otherwise it’ll be just bloody awful.” He paused for a moment and glanced around the camp, trying to bide time, until his eyes landed on the thin knife he’d been trying to steal earlier. He also noticed a pale glow beyond the thicket which signified the sunrise. An idea popped into his head. A rather foolish one. With a placating grin the hobbit continued, “Well the truth is, you have to skin them first.” A loud roar came from out behind him, but Bilbo just shouted over the protesting dwarves. “In fact, you have to, you know, season them before you even do that. They smell bloody awful.”

One of the trolls gave a disbelieving grunt, but the smaller one asked, “Well, what kinda seasonin’?” _Bloody hell_ , Bilbo thought, _every plant_ _I_ ’ _ve_ _ever known_ _I_ ’ _ve_ _somehow forgotten_. Bilbo’s eyes flitted between Bombur and the troll nervously before he said, “Um…rosemary. Yes, you need rosemary.” The hobbit shuffled closer as if to tell the troll a secret, and surprisingly enough, the troll leaned down to accommodate him. “Actually, in fact, you see,” Bilbo began, “I would advise not eating these dwarves. They’ve got worms…in their...tubes!” Bilbo felt no surprising amount of disbelief when the dwarves started to _protest_ his assertion. _For Yavanna_ ’ _s_ _sake_ , he thought with building terror and fury, _I_ ’ _m_ _trying to bloody well save us_. One of them— _probably Balin_ , Bilbo imagined—must have gotten the gist of Bilbo’s trick because in a few moments the dwarves were backing up his declaration with unmatched vigor. Bilbo thought he heard one claim that they had worms as big as their own _eyes_ , and he shivered at the disgusting image.

The littler troll seemed to be considering this possibility, but the one on the right narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Aiih, what are you doing?” it growled at Bilbo. “It’s trying to distract us!” Bilbo began to shake his head and opened his mouth to protest when he felt rather than heard a tremendous shout directed at them from atop a large boulder behind them. “THE DAWN WILL TAKE YOU ALL!” with those words came a great crack and the sun, which none but Bilbo had noticed, filtered through the split of the rock. The trolls gave a great yell but were unable to do anything more as the sun touched them, and they froze into stone.

* * *

 

After being untied, Bilbo scampered around the stone troll statues. _Thanks to me_ , he thought with a hint of pride. He studied them, intent on drawing them in his notebook later, until he heard a shout from his left and behind the statues. “Over here! Over here,” Bofur’s voice flung out through the trees, “We found a troll hoard!” Bilbo watched as the company filtered past him and down a slight embankment. He hesitated for a moment before following them, and he found himself wavering at the opening of a dark and, if the hobbit’s nose was any judge, disgusting cave. He drew back and rested against the tree, listening to Ori and Fili make small talk and the muffled sounds of the dwarves and resident wizard within the cave.

They returned in a few moments bearing swords of a rather lengthy size and a few jewels which Gloin had slipped into his pack. 

Bilbo felt a gentle tug on his shoulder; he turned and bumped into Gandalf who held out a dagger and scabbard. “Elvish make,” Gandalf’s gruff voice filled his ears, “It’s just your size. I hate that you should ever have occasion to use it, but it is there in the event that you do.” Before Bilbo could protest the wizard had swanned away to confer with Thorin. As he was inspecting the dagger, Nori said, “Be quiet. Everyone be quiet! Something is coming.” The dwarves and Gandalf immediately crouched in defensive positions, swords drawn. Bilbo dropped his and scrambled around in the leaves and dirt to pick it up. He jumped back up when something burst through the clearing. He looked up to find, not a pack of vicious wolves or another troll, but a fat, short man in a brown cloak and hat. He rode a rather rickety looking wooden sleigh pulled by large, russet colored rabbits in thick, leather harnesses. Bilbo squinted and jerked his head in a disbelieving motion. “What,” he murmured under his breath, “Just…what?” He watched as Gandalf called out in a relieved voice, “Radagast. Radagast the brown.” The grey wizard then began a confusing discourse with the new wizard*. “What is going on,” Bilbo questioned Bofur under his breath. “No bleedin’ idea,” Bofur muttered in return.

The dwarves all watched in wary confusion as Gandalf continued to converse with the newcomer, and the brown wizard quickly thrust a long object wrapped in brown animal hide towards Gandalf. Gandalf quickly hid the object in his voluminous grey trappings before turning once again to the company. The wizard opened his mouth to address them but was interrupted by a threatening rustle and growl from behind a tree. Gandalf whirled around as a large, shaggy wolf-like creature leapt down into the center of the company. An arrow flew out and struck its shoulder while Thorin stabbed it in the heart. The dwarf king yanked the sword out the wolf’s flesh, and Bilbo shuddered to see the blade gleam beneath the dark, red blood. “A warg scout,” Thorin growled out, “We’re being followed.” Gandalf jerked Thorin around to face him and yelled out, “Who did you tell?” Thorin shook his head and answered fervently, “No one. I told no one!” The brown wizard climbed back on his sleigh and called out, “I can hold them off!” Before Gandalf could protest, the other wizard was off, racing back from the direction he had come.

Gandalf raced off behind him and the company fell in and began to run as well. They burst from the forest into an expansive clearing. The grass reached Bilbo’s knees, and he briefly noted a large, rocky crevice that appeared to be ahead of them. Too far ahead of them, Bilbo noted, as he watched Radagast racing along the plains with huge, vicious wargs and riders after him. Gandalf led them behind a boulder which jutted out from the ground and offered them no small amount of cover from the orc pack. Bilbo’s heart raced viciously as they all huddled together and listened for their pursuers to either leave or come closer.

After an interminable age, a growl reached their ears and a few pebbles skittered and fell off in front of the company’s faces. Thorin gave Kili a sharp nod, and the other dwarf darted out quickly, cocked an arrow, and let it fly. An ugly, stinking orc fell off and tumbled down as the warg leapt off after it. Gloin stabbed the wretched creature, but it let out a loud howl and alerted their hunters to the company’s position. “Follow me!” Gandalf cried as he ran towards the crevice Bilbo had seen before. They reached the rock and formed a tight circle, weapons held high. “Where did he go?” Gloin cried out, “Where did the wizard go?” They all took a quick glance around. Gandalf had disappeared. Kili let loose a few more arrows, but the orc pack was too big.  A warg got too close, and Dwalin split its head open. Bilbo was shaking so badly he felt sick, but he clutched his tiny sword all the tighter, ready to defend himself if need be.

In his intensity, Bilbo almost missed a flicker of grey at his back. He jerked his head to the side and gasped in astonishment. Gandalf had reappeared and motioned the others to follow him. Bilbo quickly shoved his dagger back into its scabbard and scrambled down into a tiny gape which led into a small cave. As the other dwarves followed him, the hobbit noted a narrow path to their left. Just as Thorin tumbled down the small embankment, a distinctive sound broke through the yells and grunts of the orcs and wargs. “War horn,” Kili muttered into Bilbo’s ear. A thunderous beat of hooves cascaded around them as battle cries rang out. A body rolled down into the cave, and the group leapt back. It was an orc with an arrow protruding from its chest. Thorin wrenched it free and examined it. He threw it on the ground and hissed, “Elves.” He whirled on Gandalf and ground out, “You did this on purpose.” Gandalf merely raised a thick, bushy eyebrow in response. “Should we follow the path?” Dwalin asked. Thorin glared at the wizard, who merely smirked in return, and gave a grudging nod. At his assent, the company raced down the narrow trail, not knowing where it would end, but trusting their king to guide them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I didn't introduce Radagast earlier, but you all should remember him, right?   
> Slowly, but surely, we are getting to the good stuff.  
> Any mistakes I've made I'll be back to fix later. Comments? Kudos? :) Thanks for reading!


	8. The Master of Peace and Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets asked a question, and he makes an impression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm...sorry lol.  
> College. That's all I'm saying.

Bilbo tossed and turned, twisted up in the silk sheets of Elvish make, as he thought about the events of the day. The mysterious path that Gandalf had stumbled upon wasn't so mysterious, as it turned out. At the end of it, the company had found themselves looking down upon a valley shrouded in moonlight and giving off a pleasant, peaceful glow. Imladris. The dwarves, and Bilbo, had tiredly made their way down the side of the mountain, and they were greeted by an illustrious elf. He had been so stunning that Bilbo had hardly paid attention to the conversation between the wizard and the elf, but he heard enough to know who the elf was, Lord Elrond. Even without Gandalf’s hurried introduction, Bilbo would have known. The elf lord greeted them with the upmost courtesy and grace.

Bilbo had spent the whole of the evening studying him. Black hair, almost purple, was twisted into an intricate braid, and a silver circlet signified his status. He had been dressed in blue and tan robes which hid his slim figure. No sound gave way under his feet, yet even the trees seemed to sway in his wake. There was something oddly familiar about him, Bilbo thought, like a memory he couldn't quite recall.With a sigh, Bilbo heaved himself up and out of bed. There would be no sweet sleep tonight, but the Elvish library seemed promising.

* * *

 

Several wrong turns, a tumble down some steps, and one stubbed toe later, Bilbo finally found the library. He happily grabbed a book of Elvish poetry off one shelf, and settled down at a chair underneath a window overlooking the valley. The moonlight was so strong he hardly needed a light, and soon he fell under the spell that only a good book could provide. 

He lovingly turned the pages, and studied the artistry, not only the words, but the pictures, too. Many of the pages were filled with miniscule illustrations to accompany the text. _Only a true artist could have fit such detail in so small a space_ , Bilbo thought as he flipped through the text. He had hardly spent an hour reading when he felt eyes on him. Slowly, he placed the book on the window ledge and turned around to face the interloper. 

It was Elrond. Bilbo hurriedly scrambled up out of the chair. “My Lord,” he mumbled hastily, “I hope I’m not intruding. Only I couldn’t sleep you see, and I have such a fondness for books, and I knew—I mean I’d heard that you were the most knowledgeable elf in Middle Earth, er, Sir.” The elf’s lips pulled back in a slight smile of amusement, and he glided over to the hobbit. “Nay, Master Baggins, you do me a great service with your compliment. I, too, enjoy a good book. However, I can feel your fatigue.” Here the elf hesitated before continuing, “Perhaps I can offer you Lissuin tea? It will set your body and mind at ease. I can assure you a full night’s rest after you take it.” Swallowing thickly, Bilbo merely nodded his head in acquiescence. “Follow me, Mr. Baggins. I have some Lissuin flowers in my personal chambers.” The elf lord turned and left the library as Bilbo followed behind.

They went slowly while Bilbo gazed at the walls and the tapestries. When they arrived at Elrond’s quarters, Bilbo started and felt nervous energy envelope him.

To break the silence, Bilbo said, “You are very kind, My Lord. Too kind, perhaps. This isn’t exactly necessary, you know.” Elrond tilted his hand to a well-worn chair, and Bilbo hurried to occupy it. “I must confess,” the elf said while gathering ingredients, “you are familiar to me, for some reason. I have felt drawn to you since your arrival. There is something about you, Bilbo Baggins.” He began to crush a pale pink flower into mush while Bilbo watched his hands, mesmerized.

The silence settled as Elrond worked, yet Bilbo felt calmed by it. A few, short moments later Elrond was pressing a brown mug filled with dark liquid into his tiny hands. Elrond settled across from Bilbo on a small chaise and watched as Bilbo hesitantly sipped the sweet liquid. As the sweet, raspberry-like flavor hit his tongue, the hobbit’s eyes widened in surprise. “Do you like it?” his host asked. Bilbo nodded in earnest, and Elrond gave a full smile. “I did promise it would be pleasing.”

He let the silence stretch again as Bilbo gulped down the tea before breaking through hesitantly. “Mr. Baggins, may I ask you a question of a personal nature?” Bilbo nodded without pausing to answer verbally. “I wondered…have you—,” he paused again, “Have you found your mark-mate, yet? I only ask because, as an elf, I can sense oddities in the auras of the creatures of middle earth. Your aura is familiar to me, and I think it is because I have…perhaps known your mate.” Bilbo slowly set the cup down and stared, unblinking, at the elf. He could only hold the elf lord’s gaze for a moment, however, before he shook his head and looked away, his throat closing up painfully. Elrond got up, and put a delicate, pale hand on the hobbit’s shoulder. “Worry not, Bilbo, the time will come,” the elf’s eyes strayed out across the room through a window which overlooked the water, “and you will meet the one. All heartache may begin, but all heartache will also end.” Bilbo merely nodded, afraid to open his mouth lest a sob choke out.

Elrond crossed the room and selected a glossy volume from a small shelf beside a wardrobe before turning back to settle on the chaise once more. “My son, Elrohir,” he said, “has written of his tales whilst travelling with his brother amongst the Dúnedain. I have recorded them.” A tiny smirk turned up the edges of his mouth. 

“I feel that you, of all your company, would find pleasure in this. Perhaps I can read a bit of it to you?” Bilbo felt himself smile as he answered with a yawn, “Yes, but don’t let me keep you up or bother you.” The elf lord smiled and returned, “I assure you, Master Baggins, you could do neither.” Bilbo settled into the chair, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to drift off to the quiet, dulcet tones of an elf lord.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much just a filler chapter to get back into the swing of things. I've got two papers due this week *on the same damn day??* so I will probably, hopefully, update later this week.  
> Lissuin is a plant from Middle Earth canon, and it does help ease the mind/body. It's only in the Undying Lands, however, so I used it for my own purposes.  
> As for Bilbo's interactions with Elrond, I'm going to go with the idea that, as an elf, Elrond would sense that Bilbo's aura would be linked to Thranduil's since he is also an elf. That's why they feel drawn to one another. They recognize each other..on sort of a cellular level. The reason he can't go "ah well this is Thrandy's bf duh" is because the connection between Bilbo and Thranduil is too blunted and unformed. He can sense something off, but he can't sense exactly what.


	9. Friends and Fisticuffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elrond gives Bilbo a fighting chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soorry. I suck. Idk if anyone is still reading this, but I am making an effort lol. Sorry that it's short, but next chapter will be the dwarves' and Bilbo's "escape" from Rivendell, and it will also include Gandalf's meeting with Saruman, Galadriel, and Elrond. SOOO :)

It was a quiet, cool night and several days later that Bilbo found himself alone with the Lord of Imladris again. Elrond had bid the hobbit to accompany him to a secluded alcove overlooking the river after dinner, and though Bilbo was reluctant—and a bit intimidated still—he could not refuse such a request, any request, from his host. So, he found himself shifting nervously while he glanced around the cave as a light breeze ruffled his hair and a low hum directed his attention to the elf in front of him.

“Have you any fighting experience, Master Baggins?” Elrond asked. Bilbo frowned and remembered the dwarves’ scorn when he responded negatively to their questions about his battle experience.

“I am a hobbit, My Lord, not some man or dwarf or even an elf. We have no need of such knowledge.”

The elf gave him a slight smile and responded, “Aye, you may be right, little one, but all knowledge is needed, and you are not on any sort of hobbit adventure or quest.”

The hobbit ducked his head sheepishly and blushed at the gentle reprimand. The Lord Elf circled the hobbit slowly, like a cat sizing up its prey.

“I know this cannot and will not be easy for you, so far from kith and kin. However, I would like to train you, as much as I am able, to fight in a manner suited to your size and skills, if you would allow it.” Elrond slowed, faced Bilbo, and stood calmly awaiting the hobbit’s answer.

“I would like that, I think,” Bilbo answered slowly, “but you must know I have no experience whatsoever.”

“Aye,” Elrond gave Bilbo a startling smirk, “I _do_ know.” With no warming, Elrond’s left arm shot out and knocked Bilbo to the ground. The hobbit let out a shout of indignation and not a little surprise. “First thing a beginner learns, Mr. Baggins, is to be ever watchful.” With that, the training began in earnest.

* * *

 

Hours or eons later, Elrond called an end to their fisticuffs, and he brought Bilbo back to his private chambers to tend the hobbit’s bruises and perhaps, Bilbo mused, soothe his ego. The hobbit had not even gotten a single jab or kick past the elf’s defenses, and he had greeted the cold floor of the alcove dozens of times during the training. He sat heavily in a plush armchair as Elrond rubbed a salve onto his arms, and the hobbit drifted off for a moment until Elrond hesitantly began to rub the mixture onto his calves. Bilbo tensed up, and the elf immediately stopped.

“Do you mind, Master Baggins?” The hobbit paused, but shook his head, and settled back into the chair as the Elf Lord finished.

The Lord of Rivendell drew himself off the floor and settled onto a small couch facing Bilbo. “I can accompany you, or have some guards, to your room, Master Baggins,” here the elf glanced away, “Or you can remain here for a time. I admire the strength and courage of your companions, and it has been many seasons since I have looked upon the Wizard’s visage. However, I find However, I find your company to be refreshing and pleasing. It is not often a hobbit leaves the Shire, and it has been many years since I have encountered one and never one such as yourself.”

Bewildered, but excited at the prospect of speaking more with an elf— _not just any_ elf, his mind supplied, _but Lord Elrond_ —Bilbo nodded in earnest. The elf withdrew a checkered board from beneath the table which separated them and placed it in the middle. He began to carefully place the marbled the pieces in their respective spaces.  

“It’s a game of strategy, Master Hobbit, do you know it?” Bilbo shook his head, and the corners of Elrond’s mouth quirked up. “Well, I have faith that you will after tonight.”

Elrond explained the game, the pieces, and the object before they began, and for a few minutes the silence was unbroken as the two concentrated on the game. However, once Bilbo caught on, a steady and quiet conversation began to flow between the two.

As the game drew to a close, Elrond paused, hand hovering over his pieces, before he said steadily and without prompting, “I think your One is not of your race, Bilbo.”

The hobbit jerked and unsettled the board, sending pieces scattering out across the Elf Lord’s carpet covered floor. “How could you, how—how do you know?”

Elrond opened his mouth but was interrupted by a knock on his chamber door. His dark eyes narrowed worriedly but he bade the intruder to enter.

A dark headed elf entered the chambers and quickly bowed to Elrond. “I am sorry for interrupting, my Lord, but the dwarf king is requesting an audience on this night. He says the moon is clear.”

Elrond stood and nodded, “I will be with him shortly, Gilaín. Wait outside my doors and escort Master Baggins to his chambers.” He turned around and bent to touch Bilbo’s hand, “We will discuss this later, Bilbo.” Bilbo attempted to protest, but Elrond gave a quick shake of his head and made his way out the door. Bilbo followed, but upon exiting the chambers, he could not discern Lord Elrond’s direction and resigned himself to following the quiet Gilaín through the eerie halls to his chamber door.

Once he had been left alone, Bilbo stripped down to his smallclothes and clambered onto his bed. Despite the ache of his body and the physical fatigue, Bilbo’s mind raced with Elrond’s parting words, and he did not sleep until light from the dawn crept through his room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fighting style Elrond shows Bilbo is sort of derived from the Capoeira, a Brazilian martial art technique *or so I saw on the internet lol*. It's really fluid, and it's something I could see the Elves doing, and it's also something I think could work for Bilbo. He's light and quick, even though he isn't slim like the elves.   
> Also, Elrond may be slightly out of character, but I prefer him to have a bit of sass. And re-reading this I am wondering if I might not subconsciously ship Elrond/Bilbo because Elrond got super clingy there lol.  
> The game Elrond and Bilbo play is called "Draughts". It's a medieval game similar to chess.   
> If there are mistakes, I will look into them later.


	10. A Dash at Dusk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discoveries and delays abound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the positive feedback! I didn't know anybody still looked into this lol! Enjoy :)  
> Also I really love the titles of these chapters. Makes me feel like Dr. Seuss or something. Not as cool, but you know.

Bilbo was pulled out of the darkness of sleep by a heavy hand shaking his arm and a husky voice whispering, "Mr. Boggins...Bilbo, wake up."

The hobbit groaned and burrowed into the warm covers while he attempted to groggily shove the offending intruder, but the voice grew more insistent and the shaking continued. Bilbo rolled over to catch sight of Kili leaning over his bed with a slightly worried expression on his face.

“What, just _what_ was so important that you interrupt my rest, Mr. Kili?” Bilbo growled.

The young dwarf frowned and answered, “You’ve slept an entire day, Master Hobbit. Also,” here he hesitated for a moment before pressing on, “Gather your things; the company is leaving.”

Bilbo glanced out the window to observe the fading pink glow of the sun; he turned his attention back to Kili and replied, “Seems a bit odd to me, going off like this and night falling. Almost like we’re sneaking off.”

To Bilbo’s dissatisfaction and surprise, Kili’s eyes flickered guiltly before he answered, “It’s a bit like that, yes. Lord Elrond read the map, you know, but then told Thorin that it was “unwise” to continue our quest. Apparently, Gandalf tried to appease him by talking about family heirlooms and curiosity or some such. In any event, Gandalf pulled my uncle aside and told him to gather the company and prepare to leave this evening. We should try to move quickly. Apparently there’s some meeting going on here, and they want to stop our quest. The wizard said to leave Rivendell and wait for him just outside its borders, but we mustn’t be caught escaping or we’ll be delayed indefinitely.”

Bilbo blinked rapidly and hesistantly said, “Leaving? But we can’t. Not now. I still have to talk to Lord Elrond.”

Kili squinted and gave the hobbit an odd, lingering look before saying, “I’m sorry, Bilbo, but it can’t be more important than the quest. Gather your things. I’ll wait for you outside.” Bilbo watched forlornly as Kili scrambled off the bed and darted out the door.

_I can’t leave now_ , Bilbo thought with no slight desperation _, Lord Elrond knew something important about my One_ , _I_ ’ _m sure_. He absentmindedly traced a pattern over his blanket while contemplating the risks of interrupting Elrond’s meeting to gather information.

Kili stuck his head back in the door, dark eyes taking in Bilbo’s drudergy, and he hissed, “Master Baggins, we are to meet the others soon. We cannot afford to be late!”

Bilbo shook himself out of his daze, hopped off the bed, and began to dress. _It_ ’ _s no matter_ , he told himself firmly, _this entire soul_ - _mate business is ridiculous_. _Who needs one_? _In any event_ , no _love pre_ - _destined can be all_ _that interesting or valuable_. _The things you work hard for are what matter_. _Fate is rather boring_ , _after all_. With that he glanced at his window and gave his reflection a sharp, reaffirming nod. He stuffed his meager supplies and extra cloak in his sack and followed Kili out the door through the hallways he had come to admire and love. Kili took a sharp right, turning them away from the main corridor which lead to the dining hall and courtyard, and ushered the hobbit through a small door which led the two to an intimate garden. The other dwarves were waiting, whispering amongst themselves. It seemed that Bilbo was the last to arrive.

Bilbo shuffled awkwardly behind the youngest dwarf prince while the dwarf king stared at him. Finally, Thorin nodded to the others and, without a word, the group formed a single file line. Thorin led them down a narrow path which branched off downwards and below the bridge they had crossed to get into Rivendell. As they neared the river, Bilbo saw a haze cutting through it. He frowned, and Kili whispered, “That’s where the border ends, of course, after we cross this Lord Elrond will know we’ve left for sure, but he won’t be able to do much about it without endangering his own people.” As the dwarves waded into the river, each following formally behind the other, Bilbo turned around. He swallowed a curious lump in his throat as he observed the beautiful haven the elves had created. Facing forward again, he stepped across the border and away, feeling in his heart that it would most likely be many years before he saw that peaceful sight again.

* * *

 Gandalf shifted, just slightly, in the stone chair as the White Wizard observed him from across the council table. 

Saruman caught his unease and a haughty smirk tugged at his mouth. “You truly think this is an idea with any merit, Gandalf? You truly think your rag-tag band of homeless dwarves can do anything against a _dragon_? Armies have fallen to less.”

Gandalf glanced around before answering, noting Elrond’s passive stare and Galadriel’s inquisitive one, “The threat of the dragon is greater than any army, to be sure, and a single arrow to the heart or the eye, perhaps, could solve it. No army needed.” He shifted again.

“Where would you get an arrow that would pierce a dragon’s hide, hmm?” Saruman snapped.

Galadriel drifted to the table and answered quietly, “There are whispers, rumors in the wind, which say a Black Arrow still exists in the city of Dale. This would be enough to kill even a dragon as old and powerful as Smaug.” She directed her piercing gaze to the Grey Wizard and continued, “However, nothing you have said indicates a need to deal with the dragon or secure Erebor. Why, Gandalf, have you stirred this golden pot all of a sudden?”

He leaned forward, a seriousness pervading his air, and said, "An ill wind is coming, I fear. Orc packs are growing more numerous and braver as are wargs. The Spiders are pouring out of Dol Guldur, if reports from the Elven Kingdom are anything to go by. I fear a darkness is coming back to shadow Middle Earth."

“Pah,” Saruman shook his head and waved his pale hand in irritation, “Evil is ever creeping. The orc packs and spiders are unconquerable. Nothing to get excited about.”

Gandalf tightened his jaw, the only sign of his increasing ire, before he replied, “Perhaps so, perhaps not, but that is not all the news I bring. Radagast the Brown brought me tale of strange and dark mis-deeds. There is talk of a Necromancer in Dul Guldur.”

Again Saruman expressed his disbelief, and Gandalf, in his haste and anger, withdrew an elongated object wrapped in animal hide. He placed it delicately on the table and watched as the others eyed it cautiously.

Elrond reached out and flipped the cloth aside to reveal a grimy, plain sword. “The sword of Angmar,” Lady Galadriel gasped.

Gandalf gave a jerky nod, but before he could continue, they were interrupted by the light pitter-patter of quick elven steps. The Master of Rivendell’s servant bounded up the steps and bowed to Elrond. “Forgive me for my intrusion, my Lord, but the dwarves are neither in the dining hall nor in their rooms or the gardens. They have escaped.”

“Well,” Elrond said, “I’m afraid the quest will continue, at least for now. I will not risk my people by sending an envoy after them.”

Gandalf simply gave the Lady Galadriel a rueful glance, avoided Saruman’s gaze, and pretended for all the world that he had no part in their timely escape whatsoever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The river is the river Bruinen. I didn't reference it by name because...I honestly didn't think of doing it until now lol.  
> Ummm...I don't think I took much dialog from the book or the movies, but if I did here is the disclaimer saying I took it in good faith, and I am definitely not making money from it.  
> As always, mistakes are made today and fixed tomorrow lol.


	11. Rocky Mountain High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew it was a bad idea. He just knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments, guys. :)  
> For some reason, I listened to "Hopelessly Devoted to You" over and over again while I was writing this. I wonder what effect it had on this chapter lol. Now I'm just picturing Bilbo listening to this on vinyl *I totally have the Grease vinyl btw* and staring at his wall.  
> Anyway, proceed!

_I knew this was a bad idea_ , Bilbo groaned to himself, _I bloody well knew it_. Rain pelted down onto the company and bit through the hobbit’s cloak. Almost as soon as the company had crossed Rivendell’s border, they were attacked by a storm. As they combed through the forest, which had become less and less of a forest and more an expanse of mountainous rock, the mist and rain swathed over them, making sight difficult.

Bilbo could just see Kili in front of him, stumbling after his brother. Save for once, when Bilbo had asked Kili about their plans to wait for Gandalf, there had been no conversation amongst the group. His question had not been well received; Kili had merely shrugged and turned away, notifying Bilbo that the conversation was over. The lightening spiking at the tops of the mountains and the thunder rattling the rocks seemed to agree with Bilbo; they should have waited for the wizard.

In his absentmindedness, Bilbo tripped over a root jutting out of the path and stumbled into the older dwarf prince. Fili grabbed his arm and settled him upright before inquiring to his health: "You don't look well. Are you alright, Bilbo?"

The hobbit nodded and gave him a small grin, but Bilbo knew it wasn't convincing. Hobbits weren't used to rough travel in the best of instances, and the rain was taking its toll on him. Still, he didn't dare raise a complaint at the moment, the dwarf king appeared not to be in a very placating mood.

Up ahead, the others had come to a stop where the path had slightly widened to allow the group to swell into a circle. He settled in between Kili and Bofur to observe Thorin discuss matters with Dwalin and Balin. "Manwë and Ulmo must be having quite the argument, wouldn't ya say?" Bofur whispered in Bilbo's ear above the crack of thunder and splatter of rain. The hobbit huffed in response and tilted his head up; the sky had darkened by volumes, and the clouds had descended to move rapidly across the hills. A loud crack of thunder shook the mountains and sent a rain of rocks over their heads.

"We must find shelter!" Thorin called out.

"Finally," Bilbo muttered. He took one step forward before a loud sound filtered through his ears. Rocks shook and fell around them; it sounded to Bilbo as if the earth was ripping apart.

"That's not thunder!" He heard Balin yell. The earth began to shake and shiver beneath their feet . Bilbo was thrown to the side, and he held to the rock wall as pieces of the path began to strip away and tumble off the side.

"Stone giants!" He heard Fili cry out.

A loud roar filled Bilbo's ears, and he could not differentiate between the sound of the rocks and the thunder. Shaking and clinging desperately to Kili’s arm, Bilbo risked a glance upwards.

His heart nearly stopped as his eyes traveled over what could only be a monster carved out of the very mountains that the company had been wandering. They were the biggest things Bilbo had ever seen; the trolls paled in comparison. Bilbo almost wished for the trolls instead of the craggy forms which were tearing chunks out of the mountainside.

Kili surged forward as one of the stone giants began ripping apart the alcove they had attached themselves to, and Bilbo leapt after him, but they weren’t quick enough. Screaming, they tumbled backwards and were forced to cling to the giant. The rest of the company went by in a dour smatter of color as the stone giant reared back to throw them. Kili jerked Bilbo off the rock, and they plummeted down, smacking into the side of the mountain and rolling down to rest on what was left of the path.

Gasping, he clambered up, legs wobbling as he did so, only to slip in the mud and somersault off the edge. He opened his mouth to scream, but no air would gather in his lungs. His hand wrapped around a tree root, and a part of his mind joked that it was probably the same one that had tripped him earlier, and splinters dug into the skin. He dangled against the edge as his body rocked in the wind and rain. Kili was shouting, but he couldn’t make out the words. A large, calloused hand wrapped around his wrist, and Bilbo was hauled over the edge back onto solid ground. Breathing heavily and from his place on the ground, he stared into the cold, blue eyes of the dwarf king.

“He is weak. He should never have come.” With that, Thorin took the lead again and directed the others further along the path.

At those harsh words, Bilbo pulled himself up right, and blood rushed to his cheeks in embarrassment.

Kili laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and whispered, “It’s alright, Mr. Boggins. We had a rough bit of surprise there, but I think Uncle has found dry cave to crouch in until the storm has passed.”

Nodding in shame, Bilbo shivered and began to follow the company into a wide-mouthed cave which tunneled into an intimate cave with just enough room to lay out sacks and huddle for warmth in the night.

As the others began taking care of their affairs and settling in, Bilbo huddled off to the side and near the opening. He made a farce of laying down and preparing for sleep, but Bilbo had made his mind up. Thorin _was_ right about him. He was weak and cowardly, undeserving of a place in this company and so very far from home. He planned to sneak off back to Rivendell after the others fell asleep and forget any of this had ever happened _. I won_ ’ _t_ _even ask Lord Elrond about my mark_ , _he told himself_ , _I will rest a day or so and be on my way_ , _back to Bag_ - _End_. He clutched his blanket around him tightly, like a shroud of significance that could offer him more than just protection from the cold, and he waited for night to come.

* * *

 

He must have fallen asleep for a few hours, for when Bilbo next checked his surroundings, there were no sounds of chatting dwarves or the howling wind. A jagged edge of moonlight bounced off the walls of the cave, illuminating just enough for Bilbo to make out the faint outlines of the rest of the company. 

 _Now was the time_ , he whispered to himself, heavy of heart. Slowly and quietly, he slipped out from underneath his blanket and rolled his belongings up again. 

He tenderly stepped over Ori, and he had almost completely slipped out of the corner of the cave mouth before he heard Bofur call out.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Bilbo closed his eyes at having been caught, but he turned around to face the dwarf, his face twisted with no small amount of guilt.

“I’m going back to Rivendell.”

“You can’t!” he whispered, “You’re on the quest. You’re one of us now!”

The hobbit shook his head, “No, I’m not. You heard Thorin. I don’t belong here.”

“He was frightened, Bilbo. No king wants to lose his charges or his people. I understand,” he said earnestly, “ You’re homesick.”

Bilbo snapped, “No, you don’t understand! You’re dwarves. You’re used to traipsing all about Middle Earth, never belonging anywhere.”

At Bofur’s look of sad resignation, Bilbo’s face shifted into surprised shame and embarrassment. He made to apologize, opening his mouth, but was cut off by a loud creaking sound from at his feet.

“What’s that?” Bofur asked, nodding his head at Bilbo’s waist.

The hobbit looked down to notice Sting glowing a bright blue. He twisted around in surprise, and met Thorin’s horrified eyes.

Thorin yelled, “Move!” But it was too late. The ground opened up underneath them, and the company fell through a giant hole which filtered into a crude chute of rock and earth. They plummeted down and finally landed on a rickety bridge made of molded wood.

Scrambling to his feet, Bilbo ripped Sting out of its sheath as goblins began pouring out from every direction. He crouched down as the rest of the company was dragged across the bridge by the goblin horde. They made no notice of him, however. As the last of the goblins trailed off around a corner, Sting flickered and the blue light faded. Bilbo stood up to survey his surroundings, and he noted that there would be no going back the way they came in; they'd have to find another exit. 

Sting flared brilliantly back to life, and Bilbo looked up in just enough time to raise the dagger against the long, jagged teeth of a goblin. A straggler from the horde attacked the hobbit in earnest. It pushed Bilbo back, and he rolled. The goblin tumbled over him, ripping Sting out of his hand, and all three fell down, down into the abyss below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Manwe and Ulmo are Valar. Manwe, while being the King of the Valar, is also the Wind-King. Ulmo is the Sea-King and Lord of Water, or so LOTR Wiki says. Seemed appropriate to mention them in casual conversation, it's a very human*I know the dwarves and Bilbo aren't "human"--they're not children of men--, but they do represent aspects of humanity in the LOTR verse* thing to do-attribute natural elemental chaos to the gods.  
> Of course, I took some dialog. I own nothing blah blah blah.


	12. Riddle Me This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, we like goblinses, batses, and fishes, but we hasn't tried Hobbitses before!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehhhhhyyyy how goes it?  
> You know, I really enjoy writing this. Fan-fiction is pretty good for shaping up grammar and writing, though perhaps not for exercising one's own imagination.  
> There's a little bit of cussing? Like Bilbo drops the F bomb. I'm pretty sure that never came up in any of Tolkien's writings, all that British gentleman crap. I personally believe anyone would drop a couple of fucks if they ever came into contact with Gollum. Bilbo is definitely sassy and not near as gentlemanly as he'd like people to think.  
> Also, I totally took Gollum's dialog and Bilbo's from the movie/books, and I shortened it because I just did.  
> Disclaimer I am still making nothing from this. This chapter was difficult and boring so go easy on me.

Bilbo hit the ground and pain rippled through his body. Terrified, he grappled around the wet dirt and found Sting. It was flickering blue, fading with every soft pulse of light, and he swung it wildly in the dark. He caught sight of the goblin, curled on its side in the mud and rocks, and Bilbo knew it was not long for this world. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his shaking hands.

The light from the fires above barely lit the cavernous expanse in which Bilbo found himself, and the golden glow mixed with the dark haze and dust to create an overcast, jagged distortion of shadows and light. Through it, Bilbo pieced together his surroundings. From what he could surmise, his tumble from the bridge left him in a rather massive stretch of tunnels created out of rock and dirt. He had happened to fall into a rather open area surrounded by rocks jutting out of the earth which branched off to what looked like an even larger open area to his left. Rocks slid off from some higher crevice to his left, and the hobbit shoved the dagger into its sheath and crouched low.

A creature crept up over a huge boulder. To Bilbo, it looked like an overgrown spider—spindly and thin—as it crawled over the earth to reach the dying goblin. Bilbo felt repulsed and intrigued as he studied the creature in closer detail. It was thin, skeletally so, and so pale its blue veins popped out in the dark. Its eyes were bulbous and blue, glinting in the grey light with only a wrap of dirty cloth around its waist. The creature grasped onto the goblin and hauled it back over the boulder. As it struggled to lift the goblin, a small object slipped out of the cloth and fell to the ground. The creature trudged slowly out of Bilbo’s sight.

Bilbo slowly unsheathed the still slightly glowing Sting and began to creep behind them. He peered down at what had fallen from the creature’s pocket; it was a ring, and curious, he picked it up. Frowning, he turned it over and observed its plain features. It was merely a simple, gold band. He slipped it into his coat, and he looked over the boulder to watch as the creature pulled the goblin into a small pond.

The goblin suddenly gained some new strength for it began to struggle. It rose up and thrashed to fight, but its captor had the better of it for the creature smashed a rock into the goblin’s skull until it stopped moving. Sting’s light went out completely. The creature tore into the dead goblin, and Bilbo shuddered as he watched it eat the flesh raw.

After a few moments, it pushed the goblin away, and slinked back onto the shore. Bilbo stumbled backwards and tripped. The little monster immediately bounded on top of the boulder and peered down over the hobbit.

“What’s this, precious?” it rasped out.

Bilbo scrambled back, Sting in hand.

“It’s not a nasty goblin, is it?” “No,” the creature answered itself.

Bilbo cleared his throat, “I’m, I’m a hobbit. Bilbo Baggins—from the Shire!”

It drew back with a delighted, yet sinister grin. “We’ve never had hobbitses before!”

Bilbo shook Sting in its face, and it choked—an awful sound croaking out from its throat.

“Just show me the way out! I don’t want any trouble!”

It crept closer, “Is it lost?”

“Yes,” Bilbo exclaimed, “I am very lost, and I want to get unlost. So if you could just show me the way out, I would be very grateful.”

“We knows! We knows safe path for hobbitses!” “Shut up!”

Bilbo frowned, “Uh, I didn’t say anything.”

The creature snapped, “We wasn’t talking to you. Unless, oh, does it like games? Does it? Does it, precious?”

Bilbo startled, “Uh, yes. Games! I love games. Why don’t we have a game of riddles, just you and me?”

It frowned, “Just us?”

“Yes,” Bilbo nodded quickly, “If I win, you show me the way out.”

The creature crouched in on itself and muttered, “And if Bagginses loses?” “We eats it!”

It straightened back up to face the hobbit and continued, “If Bagginses loses, we eats it whole!”

Bilbo hesitated, but realized he had no choice. _Bloody fucking hell_ , he thought, _the things I do_.

He nodded, and the creature indicated that he should begin.

“Thirty white horses on a red hill. First they champ, then they stamp, and then they stand still.”

It frowned for a few moments, muttering to itself, before a light entered his eyes. “Teeth!” it cried! Bilbo nodded uneasily and encouraged the creature to continue the game. It complied and asked Bilbo an old riddle about the wind. The creature was a bit not pleased with Bilbo’s quick answer. It growled, and Bilbo quickly returned with another riddle.

“A box without hinges, key, or lid. Yet golden treasure inside is hid.”

It rocked back and forth, obviously not sure of the answer. “You give up?” Bilbo questioned hopefully.

It wailed, “Give us a chance, precious, give us a chance.” It rocked some more and kicked around the dirt before it shouted, “An egg!” Bilbo nodded in defeat, and it crowed in delight.

“Our turn,” he cried, “Our turn!” “This thing all things devours: Birds, beasts, trees, flowers; Gnaws iron, bites steel; Grinds hard stones to meal; Slays king, ruins town, And beats high mountain down.”

Bilbo felt no small amount of panic make its way up his stomach to his throat. He couldn’t think of this one. The creature noticed his hesitation, and it began to jump around.

“We wins, precious, we wins!”

“No,” Bilbo snapped, “Just give me a minute.” He waved Sting in the air and put his hand in his pocket, and he felt the ring bump against the rough of his fingertips. He whipped around and exclaimed, “Time! It’s Time!”

It growled, “Very good, precious, very good. Last one, last one.”

Bilbo swallowed in fear; he hadn’t thought the creature would get this far. He had no more riddles to ask. He walked away from the pond to where he had fallen; a small path had been cut between the rocks, and he eyed it, wondering if he could fit through it. He continued to circle his fingertips around the golden object in his pocket.

“What’s in my pocket?” he asked.

“That’s not fair!” the grim, little creature howled, “That’s against the rules!”

Bilbo didn’t relent, however, and he persisted in his question. It began to tug at the cloth around its waist, and it stopped after a few seconds of ruffling fabric.

“Where is it,” he whispered, “Where is the precious?” He looked up at Bilbo, anger in his eyes, and growled, “What has it gots in its nasty pockets, precious?” Bilbo scrambled back and leapt towards the path in the rock. The creature howled and jumped after him.

The pathway widened, and Bilbo’s shoulders brushed against the rock and earth. As he ran from the piercing howls of the ravaged creature, he felt a strange desire to put on the ring. He turned a corner and hid in a small alcove. Breathing heavily, he slipped the ring onto his finger and gave a rattled gasp. The world had turned a dark grey, and everything, even the sounds of that horrifying creature, felt muffled. He shook as it came closer, but let out a relieved breath when it passed by him. He crawled out and followed. A glimmer of light shone out ahead, and Bilbo made for it. The murderous monster had stopped and blocked the hobbit’s way. Bilbo held out Sting and wondered if he should kill it.

 _But_ , he thought, _I am a hobbi_ t, and _I am not made for such things_. With that thought, he vaulted over it and ran for the light, leaving the haunted screaming behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has the ring now!
> 
> I'm not saying that hobbits aren't naturally resistant to the Ring's power; it's clear they are, however, I do think Bilbo's resistance is more than what is natural, or it could be made out that way. I mean, in canon *which doesn't apply here, I suppose but still* he has the Ring for a veeerrry long time--60 years. That's a long time for a mortal to be in company with that kind of power. I'm going with the theory that his soul-mate bond protects him from that particular evil, to an extent. Makes sense to me, anyway. It's why he's like "wow nice ring, I'm gonna just grab this to piss off Gollum" instead of recognizing the overwhelming power like Aragorn, Boromir, or Faramir do at first meeting it. So, I don't think you should expect any signs of it wearing on Bilbo's strength and conscious in this story.
> 
> I'm sorry, it feels like it's taking forever to get to Thranduil, but it wouldn't be right to rush it. I don't think anyway.
> 
> Also, when I'm writing this shit on Word, it looks like a lot, but then I post it on here & I'm like I spent 3 hours on this..this...cupcake of a chapter? i thought i was writing a cake!?? If there are any mistakes, who are we kidding I will probably never edit this.


	13. A Bear of a Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We meet, eat, and run again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, here's an update! :)  
> I own nothing...

After their escape with the goblins, the rag-tag band of misfits looked the worse for wear. Bilbo had fled down the mountainside, at times tripping and scrambling until he caught sight of his company huddled beneath some trees. He had ripped off the ring, shoved it into his pocket, and surprised them with his sudden appearance. They had little time to converse, however, as Gandalf urged them to get as far away from the goblins as possible. Led by Gandalf, they hobbled and ran as best they could along in the direction of Mirkwood while the last vestiges of sunlight set upon their shoulders.

“What about the goblins?” Bilbo panted into Kili’s ear.

“The sunlight will protect us; and if we get far enough, they won’t search for us in the night.” he replied. Bilbo nodded and carried along. The youngest prince glanced at the hobbit and continued the conversation.

“Say, what happened, Bilbo? You gave us a fright. I thought we’d never see you again!”

Bilbo opened his mouth and adruptly closed it, thinking for a moment. For some reason, he felt reluctant to reveal to Kili the details of his interlude with the wretched creature in the caves and his subsequent dash with the ring.

“The goblins overlooked me, except for one. One doubled back and attacked me. We both fell down below the bridge there, and I spent that time finding a way out. I just happened to run across a crack that led to the outside.” In an effort to change the subject, he hurried on. “What about you? What happened when those vermin took you?”

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, Kili returned, “They took us, alright, to the goblin king! They knocked us around and took our weapons. The king said there was a bounty on our heads that the orcs sent out. Still angry with uncle Thorin, I wager. Anyway, Thorin angered the fat lump, unsurprisingly; and just as they were about to tear us to pieces, Gandalf appeared! Just like that, with that old staff of his burning the goblins’ eyes. He shouted at us to fight, and we fought our way out. It’s amazing what you can accomplish with the help of a wizard. Well, and now here we are, and here you are, on the right track again.”

“Indeed,” Bilbo murmured in surprise. He made no more attempts to continue the conversation, however, and they continued behind their companions in relative silence for quite some time.

* * *

 

Well into the night after the mountains had dwindled and forest took their place, Gandalf brought them into a glade surrounded by thick bushes, not unlike what dotted the hills behind Bag-End. They gathered around him as he counted off and waited for him to speak.

“I suggest,” the old wizard huffed out, “that _this_ time you do as I say. We shall rest the night here, and in the morning I will see about staying with…an acquaintance of mine before we make the journey through Mirkwood.”

Tired and injured, no one questioned his command. Even Thorin, usually the first to speak in suspicion against the wizard, had no qualms; he merely set about telling the dwarves to schedule the watch. The others settled in to sleep though none of the company but Bilbo still retained their packs. He set down his tattered sack and opened it, spying the old dream cup which he’d quite forgotten about since the first night he had met the dwarves. He gingerly reached for it and pulled it from the bag and turned it over in his hand. He glanced around and, seeing that the others were minding their own business, readying themselves for sleep and conversing quietly, he shuffled off to a small pond at the edge of the clearing. It had rained recently, the hobbit surmised, for the ground was wet and spongy and many such ponds dotted the area upon which they had alighted. Pursing his lips, he squatted down and quickly scooped up some water into the cup and, before he could change his mind, took a swift gulp. He dumped what was left back into the pond and deftly made his way back to his spot in between Kili and Bofur. He felt secure beside them, and, despite the terrors of the day, he quickly fell into a dream.

* * *

 

_This dream is rather like the others I_ ’ _ve experienced_ , _at least in feeling if not setting_ , Bilbo thought, as he observed his surroundings. He was in a massive bedchamber with high-vaulted ceilings and one huge window to the left. Though the room clearly belonged to a house of great expense, it had few furnishings; not, Bilbo thought, for lack of funds but for lack of inhabitants. The room seemed abandoned but for an intimidatingly high bed and an iron chest at its foot as well as a small mirror nailed to the wall beside the bed.

He felt drawn to the chest, but he forced himself to observe the mirror first. It had once been very fine, he thought; its edges were made of rusted iron, but the engravings around the borders were fantastically detailed images of elves, flowers, and deer. Whoever crafted such an item had taste and skill. The glass itself, however, was cracked and stained. The ripples and distortions made Bilbo seem even smaller and grey. He reached out to touch the surface, but he drew back in alarm as his finger ran over one of the jagged parts. He made no sound, but he watched as a single dot of blood fell from his finger onto the stone floor. He frowned and looked back up, but the mirror was gone.

The unease he had felt began to grow, and he walked over to the window which almost encompassed the entire left wall. He surveyed the area below and felt sad and alarmed in turn. What had once been a great garden was now a wild tangle of dead and dangerous trees and plants. Dead trees slumped over, and their equally dead leaves littered the cobbled walkway which snaked throughout the garden’s entirety. The only creature which seemed to survive was a cruel Hawthorne tree right in the center. _Its spikes probably warded off all that was gentle and lively_ , Bilbo thought. As he watched, clouds rolled in, and though he had not noticed the sun, its presence was sorely missed. Darkness made the room appear smaller and, to his surprise, even more intimidating. He felt suffocated; he turned away from the window in hopes of finding the door, but he found none. He turned again to the window, but it had disappeared as well. The room was plunged into total darkness, not even a shadow remained. Bilbo swallowed drily as his heart began to beat quicker. He reached behind him and felt the wall; he walked until he found himself in a corner and promptly slid down into a protective position.

The chest, what Bilbo assumed was the chest, began to rattle. So slightly at first that the hobbit had to cover his mouth and nose just to hear it, but the noise grew louder. His heart pounded even quicker, and the chest seemed to so well match his own blood that he couldn’t tell a difference. It rattled so loudly that he put his small, but now roughened hands over his ears. It shook so that he began to shake as well. _Something is in there_ , he thought desperately, _something is in there_. _Something is_ \--

* * *

 

“Bilbo! Bilbo,” he heard. Someone was shaking his shoulder. The hobbit gasped and waved his hand wildly, smacking his attacker in the face.

“Bilbo!” came the rushed voice, “It’s me, Kili.” Bilbo’s shaking slowly subsided as he looked into the eyes of his young companion. Bilbo swiftly clambered up, and he felt that his legs were made of jelly. To his surprise, the other dwarves were still unaware of his dilemma.

“We are packing up,” the young prince muttered, clearly worried, “Gandalf bade me wake you. He is readying to leave to go greet our future host.”

Bilbo nodded, still upset by his dream, but he began shoving his things into his sack with a vigor, determined to disregard the dream.

“Now,” the wild wizard called out as the company gathered to him, “You must wait here while I go speak to our potential host.” He eyed Bilbo and continued, “Bilbo, you will come with me.” Addressing the others he said, “Do try not to get into trouble while we are gone.”

“Potential host?” Thorin barked out as the two began to leave. “Why must you two go and leave us behind? We are weary and hungry.”

The wizard sighed heavily and closed his eyes before taking another deep breath. “You are staying here, Thorin Oakenshield, because I say you will!” With that, he stalked off through the trees, leaving Bilbo to scurry after him.

“Who is this mysterious person, Gandalf?” Bilbo panted out as he kept pace with the wizard.

The wizard’s lips twitched upwards in a smile as he answered with no small amount of finality, “Ah, Master hobbit, he’s quite a _bear_ of a man.”

Despite the questions which brimmed in Bilbo’s mouth, he refrained, not wanting to disturb the wizard’s good mood and kept his silence for the duration of their walk.

The sun had fully risen and made its way to the height of the sky when Bilbo caught a glimpse of a large cabin situated on a green hill. The cabin was surrounded by groves, bee-hives, and a large paddock which housed many well-fed looking ponies. _Rather a bit too convenient_ , Bilbo thought but dared not say.

Gandalf cheerfully made his way to the cabin, humming along the way. Bilbo followed with less enthusiasm and much less cheer. He knocked swiftly upon the wooden door, and a voice called out, “Who approaches?” Bilbo flinched as he heard heavy footsteps approach them from the other side, and nausea flared up in his stomach. It was flung open, and Bilbo stumbled back as he looked upon the biggest man he’d ever seen. _Gandalf was right_ , Bilbo wondered in awe, _he_ ’ _s_ _more of a bear than a man_. His eyes traveled up from well-worn boots all the way to a handsome, but wild face surrounded by shaggy, brown hair. The man bared his teeth and stooped down to Bilbo’s level, “Ah, a wizard…and a bunny.” Bilbo, overwhelmed by both the journey and his own imagination, in true hobbit fashion, promptly stumbled over the man’s boots, threw up all over the threshold, and fainted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I skipped the whole Western style shoot out with Thorin and Azog. The story is about Bilbo and Thranduil, and quite frankly, I didn't like that scene in the movie. Plus, if I added that, it'd be another chapter, and I am just as anxious as ya'll to get to Mirkwood lol. If I thought it would add much to the plot, I would include it, but I don't think it does. So, on we go!
> 
> Can ya'll guess what was in the chest?
> 
> I feel like this is a decent enough chapter! Any mistakes...I will...fix them...eventually.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it :)


	14. Into the Woods We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, into the woods we go!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing. This chapter is rather short, but that's because I wanted to update. I also want the next *very important* chapter to get right into the thick of things.  
> Comments and kudos are appreciated :)

Hours later, Bilbo opened his eyes to a soft flicker of firelight and the repugnant feeling of his own sweat making his shirt stick to his body. He stretched out of the bundle of blankets which had held him in place on a thick, goose-feathered mattress and glanced around. A small, circular window allowed Bilbo see that dawn was soon approaching. _Sweet Yavanna_ , he thought, _have I slept a full day_? _More_?

He scrambled out of bed, overwhelmed with a sudden desire to see his companions and half afraid that they’d left, and slipped out the large bedroom door. He crept down the stairway and peered over the railing; a large wooden bench-styled table sat in the kitchen. Years of use made it seem worn, and Bilbo saw some suspicious looking dark stains dotting the table-top.

A voice startled him and jerked him out of his observations, “Aye,” it called, “The little bunny is awake.”  Bilbo continued down the steps and confronted the caller, their odd host.

“I’m not a bunny.” Bilbo answered with no small amount of indignation.

He laughed, a rough growling sound, and replied, “You are to me, little one. I am Beorn, skin-changer, and you are?”

Bilbo stood up straighter and stuck out his hand, “I am Bilbo Baggins of Bag-End, a hobbit from the Shire.”

Beorn grasped it and nearly lifted the hobbit off the ground with his impressive strength. He studied Bilbo for a moment, a small smile pulling at his wide mouth before he growled out, “It is quite early, yet, Bilbo Baggins. All of your companions, save for the wizard, are still asleep. Would you break your fast with me?”

Bilbo’s stomach grumbled in answer, and he blushed as Beorn laughed. He climbed up on the table—everything, he realized, seemed over large, even for a man—and grasped a cup of water with both hands.

He ate the bread and honey which Beorn laid out for him, and watched the skin-changer eat the same in companionable silence.

“You will be leaving soon, Master Hobbit. Your leader,” here he gave a slight grimace, “Thorin Oakenshield articulated as much. Your fainting spell took your company by surprise. Tell me, do you feel as if you are sickening again?”

Bilbo blushed, ashamed that any of the dwarves would know about his spell of sickness, and shook his head in answer. To be completely honest, his nausea took him by surprise, as he had felt perfectly fine despite his weariness.

“Well,” Beorn continued, “perhaps a goodnight’s sleep has cured you. Gandalf told me of your run in with the goblins, I confess I am surprised at your getting away. Nasty little buggers, the whole lot of them.”

Bilbo nodded and sopped up the last of the honey with his bread, glancing at his host as he did so.

“Are you sure you want to venture into Mirkwood, little bunny? That is a forest of many dangers, and neither it nor the elves it houses tolerate visitors, _especially_ dwarven ones. I have no love for the dwarves, either, but you could stay here and assist me for a time until the wizard ventures back this way to take you home. You’ve a green thumb, I’d say.”

Bilbo was momentarily stumped at the sudden desire he had to do just that. _Why not stay_ , he wondered to himself, _the dwarves truly have little need of me_. Before he could answer, the double doors leading into the house banged open, and Gandalf strode in and plopped down beside him.

“Bilbo Baggins!” he cried, “Awake at last. Do you feel any better?” Bilbo nodded in reply. “Good, we leave in an hour. I daresay you feel refreshed enough to take a trip through Mirkwood.”

Bilbo suddenly felt an overpowering desire to be outside; perhaps Beorn sensed this, or more likely he wanted a moment a lone with the wizard, for he indicated a backdoor which led to an herb garden behind his house. Bilbo politely escaped from their company and ventured out into the garden. He spent the remainder of his time gathering herbs meant for healing and cooking and enjoying what he assumed was the calm before the storm.

At the end of his quiet hour in the garden, he went around the front to join the dwarf princes who were already packed and ready to continue. Kili held out Bilbo’s pack as he approached them, and the hobbit gave him a grateful smile.

“Are you feeling better, Mr. Boggins?” the younger prince queried.

“Yes, Master Kili, I’m fit as a fiddle.”

The dark-haired prince smiled, “Beorn hates us, but Gandalf persuaded him to loan us his ponies until we get to Mirkwood. We’re to let them go once we get to the edge.”

Bilbo wrinkled his nose; he’d not ridden so well the last time they had ridden on ponies, but it would certainly be better than walking.

He spent the next few moments talking quietly with Fili and Kili, and as the others filtered out into the courtyard, Bilbo’s heart clenched. He’d grown rather attached to the two young dwarves, and the journey was half over. Soon, they would have no need or reason to associate with him. Despite their amiable demeanor, they could have no reason to ever again need or want a hobbit’s services.

He grimaced as Thorin demanded that they mount the ponies. He climbed into the saddle of a gentle looking, brown mare rather reminiscent of Myrtle. He waited as the others trotted off, Gandalf and Thorin at the lead.

A calloused hand gripped his ankle, and he turned to face their host. A calculating look graced his bearded, wild face, and he murmured, “Have a care, little bunny, there’s plenty of foxes where you’re goin’. You may even meet the biggest fox of all.”

With that, the skin-changer lightly smacked the pony, sending them trotting in the direction of his companions and leaving Bilbo to puzzle out his meaning for the entire jaunt to the edges of Mirkwood.

* * *

 

The distance from Beorn’s residence to Mirkwood had been a short one, comparatively, Bilbo mused as they stood milling about releasing the ponies and, privately, gathering their courage to continue. Bilbo observed the wood with trepidation; even from a slight distance its air felt foul and cloyingly thick.

“It’s sick, isn’t it?” Bilbo asked Gandalf, “The forest, I mean.”

The wizard frowned deeply, his wrinkles folding in and casting shadows across his face. He seemed to wade into the thicket, spreading out his arms as he touched the rotting trees which huddled at the boundary.

He swiftly wheeled around and barked out, “Hold my horse!”

Fili quickly gripped the reins of the wizard’s mount and held it while Gandalf vaulted into the saddle.

He looked over them slowly before he said, “Some unforeseen business needs my attention. I must leave you.”

“Leave us?” Thorin barked out.

“Worry not, Thorin Oakenshield. Merely stick to the path as I have instructed, _and_ ,” here he narrowed his eyes and rumbled, “Wait for me. Once you are out of the forest, _do not_ continue on to Dale.” He paused again, and his eyes softened as they studied Bilbo’s terrified visage, “Take good care of my hobbit.” He swung around he quickly flew back from whence they had come.

They stared for a few moments in disbelief as their resident wizard slipped away from them. _Off to do Yavanna knows what with Mahal knows bloody who while we trudge through this maw of darkness_ , Bilbo thought.

“Well,” Balin called out with a mix of amusement and fear, “Into the woods we go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, okay. Next chapter is Thranduil, for sure and for certain. I've already started writing it. I really dig Beorn, tbh. Like, he's one cool cat.
> 
> Any mistakes, I'll fix 'em later :)


	15. Under Blue Moon I Saw You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fate  
> Up against your will  
> Through the thick and thin  
> He will wait until  
> You give yourself to him  
> You give yourself to him"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to "The Killing Moon" by Echo & The Bunnymen the entire time I wrote this chapter because it's the vibe I get from Mirkwood and Thranduil, tbh. You guys should check it out! That's where the title and the chap summary come from.
> 
> Anyway, comments and kudos are appreciated :)
> 
> I hope this is to your satisfaction!

_Cherry trees_ , Bilbo thought dazedly. He stretched out and grabbed a branch; inspecting it, the poor creature looked dead and withered. _Is it truly dead_ , he wondered, _or just bracing for the coming winter_? He cracked the branch and observed the green, lively veins with delight. _Not dead_ , his thoughts spun half-drunkenly in all directions, _dark_ _in autumn_ , _but not dead_. _Not yet_. _Such is this great forest_ , _Mirkwood_.

A hand tugged at his elbow, dragging him out of his haze. He reluctantly released the branch and watched for a moment as it treaded the air. He turned to follow the company once again, suddenly afraid of getting left behind. The forest’s air was thick and sweet, unlike anything he had ever encountered, and that he might drown in it and be forgotten seemed highly likely. He had read books describing the heavy air of the sea and wondered if Mirkwood was in anyway similar. _Dark and heady_ , he told himself, _the sea and the trees_. _Yes_ , _they surely must be kin_. _For I fear the horde of these trees surely as much as I fear the wilds of the water_.

Kili’s whisper broke his reverie as he quietly slipped away from Fili, for even rambunctious princes the felt the oppression of this place, “What has so caught your attention, Mr. Baggins?” He held out his calloused hand to the shaken hobbit.

Bilbo grasped Kili’s hand and entwined it with his own before he replied, “The forest is sick; I feel it most keenly. I’m afraid something stalks us in the dark.”

The young dwarf smiled and squeezed his hand as he answered, “Fear not, Bilbo. I will protect you here just as I protected you from the trolls.”

Bilbo smiled and felt lighter at Kili’s reassurance, but he dared not let go of the prince’s hand, and Kili made no move to revoke the gesture. Pressed together, they traveled in relative silence, drawing up the rear.

When Thorin finally called for a halt, a light drizzle had cleared away the saccharine mists which had so clouded their vision as well as their minds. The darkness had crowded in on them without Bilbo noticing. Though he had previously thought it an impossibility, the atmosphere had only grown more sinister as the last bit of sun receded through the forest.

“How long until we make it through the wood?” Bilbo whispered into the youngest prince’s ear.

Kili rasped out, “Two or three days,” he paused to wet his lips, “if we’re lucky.”

Bilbo swallowed thickly and settled his pack against a boulder covered with moss. He withdrew the last of his lembas bread, graciously given to him by Beorn, and gnawed at the corner. Fili and Kili settled beside him, and he felt grateful for their presence. They gave off a soft heat which warded off the cool autumn evening, and Bilbo knew it to be the only warmth of the night.  For surely Thorin would not build a fire in this place, drawn to the darkness as it was.

He shoved what was left of the bread down into his sack and curled on his side; Kili began to hum quietly as Bilbo began to drift off. The soft sound of Kili’s warm rumble eased his misgivings until he had fallen asleep and could worry about the cold forest no longer.

* * *

 

Bilbo woke just as the first grey of dawn had crept up through the grass to alight on the early morning dew. He drew in a deep breath and wrinkled his nose in disgust as Mirkwood’s air settled into his lungs; the fragrant fog had come back to hang over them, heavier than before. He sat up and glanced around to observe the stillness of the morning. The dwarves had all fallen asleep; even the watch, Dwalin and Balin, had slumped over against a tree to rest. ‘ _S alright I suppose_ , Bilbo thought, _I highly doubt anything would attack us in the morning_. _They need their rest_.

The hobbit grimaced as he felt an uncomfortable pressure on his bladder; he needed to relieve himself, but was hesitant to turn his back from his companions, much less leave their sight. _Oh_ , _for Yavanna_ ’ _s sake_ , he prompted himself, _I shan_ ’ _t be gone but a moment. They wouldn_ ’ _t leave me_. _I_ ’ _ll pop behind a bush and pop back_ , _and they_ ’ _ll be none the wiser_.

He scrambled up to his feet and went back along the path, turning a corner, until the dwarves were out of sight. With a sigh of relief, he finished his business in guarded privacy—the sort he had not experienced since Elrond’s home. Feeling satisfied, he turned and made his way back to the camp.

He rounded the corner, fully expecting to be met with grumbling dwarves and Kili’s normal exuberance. He was met with only the continued stillness of the forest. He clutched Sting and shoved his hand into his pocket to scrape the edge of the ring for comfort as he stared at an unfamiliar glade. The company of dwarves had vanished.

After searching for what appeared to hours, though one could never be sure in Mirkwood, Bilbo settled down on top of an old, rotted stump. Though he had no way of knowing, he assumed it was early evening. However, he was unsure of even that because the sun had stayed at the height of the sky for what seemed to be a dragon’s age. He pulled out his handkerchief with a forced laugh and wiped away the sweat at his brow. _Of all the things to keep track of_ , he thought. The sun was a particular enemy; despite the autumn season, it had beat down on the hobbit’s back with a certain vengeance as if to scold him in his foolishness. I can’t find them in this heat, he said to himself. He considered the spongy moss along the forest floor until his head began to spin. He jumped off the stump and flopped over in the grass. _Just a short nap_ , he consoled himself, _just a short sleep and then searching some more_. He had almost sunk into a dream when a loud shriek echoed through the wood. Heart ricocheting against his ribs, Bilbo shot up to his feet and crouched low with Sting in his hand. It sounded again with triumphant bloodlust, and Bilbo shuddered in revulsion. Nothing of the kind had ever reached his ears before, and he knew no hobbit, dwarf, or wizard could ever make such a noise. He fumbled in his pocket and slipped on the ring. Feeling safer in his invisibility, he darted forward in the direction of the screams.

He ran up a slight embankment and peered down over the side. The rain had made it unstable, however, and the buildup of earth collapsed as he rolled down the small hill. As he brushed himself off, he looked around his surroundings. Tall trees stretched up and their branches were covered in a thick, white gauze of some sort which blocked out the light. Nothing grew underneath, and to his horror the ground was littered with bones of every shape and size. He looked again at the trees, and he noticed a cluster of shapes wrapped in the white string hanging from a large tree in the center. _Dwarf_ - _sized shapes_.

He began sneaking towards them when a large, black shape crawled into his view. Bilbo gave a muffled shout of horror as he got a decent look at it. The creature was as big as a pony, or bigger, and it skittered towards the hobbit on eight spindly legs. So strong were his feelings of terror and revulsion that bile rose in Bilbo’s throat as it approached; he ripped Sting from its holster and swung wildly as it came within reach. He slashed the creature’s leg, and it let out the same unearthly howl which had drawn Bilbo near in the first place. The spider loomed over Bilbo, unable to see its prey but certain it was close, and snapped at the hobbit with pointed teeth coated in venom. Bilbo thrust Sting up, and he heard the crunch of the spider’s skeleton as the dagger ripped through the blackened body of his enemy. He screamed again when the disgusting creature collapsed on top of him; he struggled to get out from underneath it, shivering as he felt it twitch against him. He scrambled up and wiped his hands all over his body, trying to dispel his fear and loathing as he watched it curl in on itself in death.

Still shaking, he forced himself to consider the task at hand: freeing the dwarves. He grasped the lowest branch on which they were captured and hauled himself up. _Spider webs_ , he thought with a shudder as he cut through the bonds of the first dwarf. As he cut through the last of the web, Kili fell with a hard thump on the forest floor. Bilbo winced, but he dared not stop cutting through the spiders’ weave in case some returned before he finished. As he was cutting down Bofur, the shriek he had learned to associate with the overgrown beasts echoed through the forest. Bilbo paused in fear for a moment before racing to cut down the others.

The dwarves dropped down onto the ground as he began lopping of the strings which dangled them above the earth. He glanced up to see a spider bearing down on him; he raised Sting to slash in its direction when an arrow, out of nowhere, slammed its throat. Its legs kicked out, knocking Bilbo into the air, and they tumbled to the dirt.

He watched as arrows pelted the horde of spiders, and elves leapt into the fray. They made quick work of the monsters, and they had soon cut his companions free. The web must have been infected with some sort of venom, however, for the dwarves had not moved, and only their gently rising chests indicated to Bilbo that they all still lived. He swallowed anxiously as a blonde elf snapped at a redheaded one, and their group began picking the dwarves up. _They must be making their way back to the king_ , Bilbo thought with despair. _Oh_ , _dear_ , _stay on the path_ , _Gandalf said_. _Everything will be just fine_ , _he said_. _I_ ’ _ll be right back_ , _he said_. _Yavanna save us_.

He deftly followed the host of elves as they made their way back to the borders of the elven king’s home.

Soon they had reached the doors of the great hall, and if Bilbo had not been in such a wretched state, he would have been in awe at the wild beauty of the Mirkwood elves’ home. However, he could only concentrate on getting the dwarves out of this mess, and, as such, he hardly spared a glance at the architecture or the natural surroundings. He slipped in as the last of the elves entered, and he listened as the blonde elf, clearly the leader, gave orders to the others. He walked away as the other elves began taking the dwarves in what, presumably, was the direction of the dungeons. Bilbo sprinted after them as they put each dwarf in a cell, and he tried to remember where each was placed for the dungeons where quite tangled and dark. Thorin was the last prisoner to be put away, and Bilbo waited for several minutes to see if they would awaken. When they continued to remain motionless, Bilbo reluctantly left the dungeon to look for food and perhaps a way out and a place to sleep.

When he exited the dungeons, he saw the redheaded elf, and for lack of any ideas, he decided to follow her. _Perhaps she is going to the kitchens_ , he thought, _after a fight that_ ’ _s what I would want_.

It was not to be, much to the hobbit’s despair, for she ventured through the spacious hall out into a courtyard. Two guards stood at the entryway, and they relented to let her pass. Bilbo followed her with a growing sense of unease. She made her way to a small pool, and she bowed to the tall, stately elf she found there. _Thranduil_ , Bilbo thought in awe. He turned to her, and Bilbo could see him fully. He wore a silver robe with a hem that coated the ground with intricate gold designs shining in the moonlight which filtered through the trees to land on him. His silver hair glowed like starlight, and his eyes were a rich brown that, despite rumors of coldness, could inspire a forest.

“Yes?” he questioned the she-elf quietly. His voice warmed Bilbo to the core.

“My lord, we killed a nest of spiders, and found a company of dwarves in their clutches. We have put them in the dungeons. They were still asleep. I fear we could gain no information from them.”

The king turned from her and began to unlace his robe; Bilbo’s heart began to pound quicker, and the unease he had felt upon first following the redheaded elf magnified.

He continued with an impatient drawl, “Rest assured I will question the leader as soon as he awakens,” he paused for a moment then continued in a quieter, contemplative tone, “Have some bread and water sent to their cells.”

Tauriel bowed and quickly disappeared from whence she came, but Bilbo made no move to follow her. He was entranced by the elven king, but he could not discern why. He acknowledged his superior beauty, but he felt that something else was at work. _Perhaps the king ensnares all who look upon him and are found wanting and unworthy_ , Bilbo thought absentmindedly. He watched him as he began to further disrobe; and Bilbo felt the blood rush to his face as the king shed his undershirt to show bare skin. The blood slowly rushed away, however, when Thranduil turned once more, his body facing Bilbo. All air escaped Bilbo’s lungs as the light landed on the king’s chest for their, right in the middle, sat a flower. An alfirin. Just like Bilbo’s.

He gasped, and Thranduil’s eyes focused on the sound.

“Who hides in the shadows?” he barked out.

Bilbo stumbled backwards and fell. Black surrounding him, and the hobbit slipped into unconsciousness.

Thranduil’s voice was the last thing he heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So????
> 
> Any mistakes I'll fix 'em later :)


	16. Misunderstandings I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You could not escape from me, not for long."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your encouragement at the last chapter! I hope you guys liked it :)  
> I was sooooo freakin' excited for that one, and I think I played it right. Anyway, I own nothing blah blah blah
> 
> My cousin just had a baby girl yesterday! :) She's super cute and what not. I had planned on putting this chapter out earlier, but I went to the hospital, and I was just so worn out. Anyway...
> 
> Onward, march!

Bilbo woke up to a soft hand pressing into his damp hair. Bilbo blinked his eyes open until they focused onto a pale, calm face. _An elf healer of some sort perhaps_ , Bilbo thought to himself.

As if sensing the hobbit’s disquiet, the elf stepped back and bowed. He exited the large, ornate chamber that Bilbo had been placed in through a door several paces from the bed. Bilbo’s heart began to race as he patted first his clothes and then the bed; the ring was gone. _How did Thranduil find me_ , he questioned himself in despair, _how did he know_?

Just as he had worked himself up into a proper hobbitish panic, an elegant figure graced his doorway. He swallowed and refused to look up; Bilbo _knew_ who it was. He watched from the corner of his eye as Thranduil’ shadow spilled across the bedding, and for a long moment neither spoke. Bilbo found he could not hold out against the damning silence, however.

“How did you find me?” Bilbo whispered.

He received no answer; so, hands shaking, the hobbit slowly tipped his head up to lock eyes with the king of Mirkwood. _My bloody soulmate_ , he thought with wonder and fear. If Bilbo could observe him objectively—he couldn’t—he would have still thought him the most beautiful creature to reside on this side of the sea. He wore an intricate black robe with green embroidery; Bilbo was no tailor, but even he could discern its quality. A crown of delicately carved wood sat atop his silvery blonde hair; red berries had been intimately weaved amongst the wrapped branches. _King of the wood_ , Bilbo thought in distraction, _king of the seasons_.

“I am the king of this realm, Halfling,” he bit out stiffly, “I could sense you and this.”

Here he paused and withdrew a hand from the folds of his robes to hold up the simple gold band which had now saved Bilbo twice. _But not_ , Bilbo noted with a wry smile, _a third time_.

“A curious thing,” the king said delicately, “Wherever did you come across such a ring? For I have seen many more valuable and intricate, but none could make its bearer invisible.”

Bilbo bit his lip and considered lying, but decided against it. He did not, after all, have the upper or even equal hand in his position. “I found it in the mountains where the goblins live,” he replied as quietly as possible.

Thranduil placed the ring at the foot of Bilbo’s bed and hummed slightly. “What is a Halfling doing so far from his home I wonder?” the king asked lightly.

Bilbo’s nostrils flared; he was small, but not stupid, and he did not appreciate being toyed with by anyone, not even his one. “You can wonder all you like,” Bilbo snapped back, “I thought you would know. You’re the king, _after all_.”

Thranduil raised a dark eyebrow and smirked as he replied, “Yes, I confess I am aware of your reasons for being here. I have already spoken with the dwarf king.” The smirk disappeared and a frown took its place, “However that does not alleviate my confusion. I was given to understand that hobbits kept to themselves, and though Thorin Oakenshield would tell me very little, his youngest nephew was eager to plead your innocence. I wonder what sort of hold you have placed over him and what sort of hold he may have over you in turn.”

Bilbo drew himself up, anger making him feel braver than he was. “As I said before, my king, you can wonder all you like. I have nothing else to offer you.”

The frown dissolved, and Thranduil’s face once more reverted to a blank canvas. He observed Bilbo for a moment before continuing, “I am not your king, Halfling.”

Bilbo blanched as hurt quickly blossomed through him and replaced the anger. He had slipped up and showed his hand. The elf who had been attending to Bilbo as he woke reappeared and spoke to Thranduil in another language.

Thranduil made his way to the door, but turned back to address the other elf, “Attend to the Halfling’s comfort.”

Bilbo watched in a daze as the king swiftly slipped out of the doorway and away from him.

“Would you like to go to the kitchens for lunch, master hobbit?” his elvish companion asked quietly.

Bilbo sighed deeply and answered, “My name is Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire, and yes. I feel as if I haven’t eaten in a dragon’s age.”

The elf gave a slight smile before dipping her head in acknowledgment, “My name is Maeowen.”

She led Bilbo out of his room and through the large, ornate hallway. Feeling uncomfortable, Bilbo said, “This is rather…secluded and comfortable for guest quarters, Maeowen.”

She glanced at him and replied, “You are not in the guest quarters, Mr. Baggins, nor the more comfortable prison cells. My king bade you stay in the private chambers reserved for friends and family of the king’s line.”

Bilbo paled even further and said nothing in return; he would not say anything for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

 

Bilbo watched the sun descend over Mirkwood from his window that evening when a knock resounded through the room. He tensed up, but called out his presence. Thranduil swanned into his vision once more, looking all the more lovely in red robes. His hair was down and loose; he had no crown, but a single white jewel hung at a silver chain around his neck. Bilbo gulped and turned away. The king said nothing. He merely came to stand beside Bilbo, and the hobbit felt increasingly uncomfortable as the silence escalated the tension.

Unable to bear it any longer, he blurted out, “Why did you give me the ring back? I could put it on and escape again.”

Without looking at him the king replied, “I am not in the habit of taking my guests’ possessions, and,” here his voice deepened, “you could not escape me, not for long, Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo swallowed heavily and clenched his fists tightly before splaying a hand out on the windowsill: “I’m not your guest, your highness. I mean, I mean I wasn’t invited or expected. I’m an intruder.”

Thranduil placed his beside Bilbo’s and sighed, “You are many things, I am sure, but no, expected is not one of them.”

Bilbo’s eyes were glued intently on the space between their hands; _the length of a blade of grass_ , Bilbo thought, _if I just moved my finger an inch to the left_ —his thoughts were interrupted by the king’s voice.

“I expect you will wish to see your companions. My son will escort you at first light.” He turned and made his way to the door.

“Son?” Bilbo said slowly, half in question and half in surprise. _Son_ , Bilbo cried, _of course he has a bloody son_. _And a wife as beautiful as he is_ , _and for all I know about these Mirkwood elves_ , _he has a dozen pretty ones to attend him when she is away_.

Thranduil halted, but did not turn back, “Yes,” he answered softly, “my son, the prince. Goodnight, Mr. Baggins.”

Bilbo watched, in equal parts despair and grim satisfaction, as his silver hair fluttered behind him while the king disappeared into the dark hall, taking Bilbo’s halfhearted hopes and expectations with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly can't say for sure if I've written Thranduil in character, and by character, I mean book character not movie character. He's such an ass in the movie lol. I mean I get it, but I like book Thranduil better.
> 
> Maeowen is made up, just a facilitator for Bilbo and Thranduil's interactions!
> 
> Anyway, hope ya'll liked it :) kudos and comments are much appreciated. Have a good week, ya'll!!


	17. Misunderstandings II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo placed a hand over his mark, hoping to calm the burning. It wouldn't let up. He supposed it never would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is waaay longer than I thought it would be...like 17 chapters & there's still so much more to go? Idk if I should continue it...I have the next couple of chapters planned out, however.
> 
> Anyway, I own nothing!

Bilbo breathed heavily as he followed the blonde prince of Mirkwood to the dungeons. His mark had been burning all morning; it was a side effect of the mark, according to his mother. It wasn’t like the flames of a fire, but more like the burn of an open wound. He imagined clawing the flower off of his chest, wondered if it would flake off with his skin or simply imprint itself onto his ribs.

His eyes traveled over the prince’s simple garb and single blonde braid as he loped through Mirkwood’s corridors. The young elf had introduced himself with his name, Legolas, and a short bow before he began to lead Bilbo to his companions. Bilbo had marveled over his beauty; though, in his opinion, he was nothing to his father. _But_ , Bilbo thought wryly, _I_ ’ _m quite incapable of objectivity on this subject_. He felt himself color as his thoughts turned, inevitably, to the king of Mirkwood as they so often had. The hobbit yawned and blushed even harder; his dreams had been filled with Thranduil. _I didn_ ’ _t even need the damned cup_ , Bilbo thought ruefully.

They rounded down the stone steps until the prince suddenly stopped and pointed down the corridor, “I have been instructed by the king to allow you your privacy with your company. The dwarves are along this strip of cells, save for Thorin Oakenshield whom you have _not_ been permitted to see. Do not stray far, and when you have finished come back to this spot, lest you get lost within these halls.”

With that, Legolas turned away and slipped back up the steps. “Little ray of sunshine, that one,” Bilbo said drily as he turned and walked towards the muffled sounds of dwarven voices. They gave a great shout at seeing him, and he talked to them for an hour before the exchange of delight changed to fierce discussion on their imprisonment.

“Likely as not,” Balin said, “Thorin is at the heart of this labyrinth. I fear it will be difficult to find him now.”

“Then we force them to give him to us!” Dwalin snapped from across the hall.

Bilbo rolled his eyes, “And just how are we to force an _entire_ population of elves to release their prisoner?” he paused and chewed his lip, “No, we shall have to sneak out.”

“Yes!” Balin exclaimed, “A better idea couldn’t be thought of in so little time with so little resources. Tonight is our best bet.”

“Tonight?” Bilbo whispered in horror.

“Yes,” Balin nodded, “The king is throwing a mighty big party, or so Kili gleaned from that redheaded she elf. Mirkwood elves are notorious for being lax with their duties on the drink. It will be the perfect time for you to steal the keys to our cells and get us out of here.”

“Me!” Bilbo cried.

“Yes, you,” Dwalin growled, “You’re the burglar, after all, so burgle us away.”

Bilbo, feeling flustered, nodded and glanced around at the hopeful faces of his friends and frowned as he looked at Fili. “Where is Kili?”

Fili scowled and jerked his head in the direction past their cells, “Down there. Too far for us to call out to him. They wanted to make us weaker by separating him and Thorin from us.”

Bilbo made his way away from the company and said, “Perhaps Kili will have some information; if not, I will at least reassure him and inform him of our plans.”

The hobbit crept along the stone corridor, away from the comforting sounds of the company and towards the youngest prince. After a time, he came upon the black-haired prince huddled against the bars of his small cell. 

“Kili!” Bilbo shouted.

The young dwarf lifted his head and smiled in response. At his young friend’s tremulous grin, the hobbit felt the weight of the past few days catch up with him, and tears entered his eyes, threatening to spill out over his pale face.

Kili frowned and reached through the bars to grasp Bilbo’s arm, “Why, what has broken your spirit so, Mr. Boggins?”

Bilbo swallowed and shakily slid his hand down to grasp the dwarf’s as he replied with a weak smile, “I’m no longer a free hobbit, Master Kili.”

The prince’s eyes widened as he sucked in a deep breath, “You’ve met your one amongst these dreary halls! An elf!”

Bilbo nodded as Kili rubbed his hands along Bilbo’s arms. “And they have rejected you?”

“Obviously,” Bilbo said with no small amount of bitterness, “What would an elf want with a lowly hobbit?”

“Bilbo, my dear, don’t talk of yourself like that!” Kili whispered fiercely, “You’re better than one hundred elves!”

The tears begin to leak out of Bilbo’s eyes as he leaned into the dwarf’s touch, “He’s married with a child, obviously. Obviously he wouldn’t have waited for me. Perhaps elves don’t have mates? Perhaps it’s me, and I am in this alone. He can have no need of me.”

Kili hesitatantly asked, “Is it Thranduil, Bilbo?”

The hobbit’s head snapped up in fear, and Kili continued hurriedly, “I only ask because, well, Tauriel told me you had been placed in beside the King’s quarters. She said he’d been rather upset with our quest, but now that you bring me this news I fear his temper is the result of something else.”

“Tauriel?”  Bilbo questioned, hoping to divert Kili’s attention.

He gave a gentle smile and replied, “The captain of the guard, the redheaded she elf. Don’t try to change the course of the conversation, Bilbo.”

The hobbit shuddered and responded, “You’re right, I’m afraid, but he wants nothing to do with me.”

“Have you actually talked to him?”

Bilbo glanced at Kili with incredulity, “Of course not? Have you met him? How could I? He’s an elvish _king_ , for Yavanna’s sake. Not only that, but he’s your enemy. I would have to break from the company if I…” here he trailed off and swallowed heavily, unable to continue.

Kili huffed, “I cannot speak for my uncle, that is true, but I know the others would not take offense! We all have our own mates, and none could ask you to deny your heart for your friends. As for the king himself, how can you know his heart or his mind if you do not confront him?”

Bilbo shook his head without replying, and the dwarf prince sighed in frustration. They simply stared at one another for a moment before Kili tilted his head and frowned.

“Someone is coming,” Kili whispered.

Bilbo leaned forward until his lips brushed against the dwarf’s ear, “We are escaping tonight, Yavanna willing, be ready.”

Bilbo could hear footsteps coming closer as Kili nodded and muttered back, “Tauriel also told me about the party. She said only two elves would be guarding the wine cellar tonight. The wine cellar that houses the barrels of wine which are to be shipped along the river to Dale,” he took a deep breath and continued, “Right, then. Follow my lead.”

Before he could reply, Kili jerked Bilbo in closer, his body crushed by the cell bars, and he covered Bilbo’s mouth with his. It was a chaste kiss, but Bilbo still gasped and stumbled back when the dwarf released him. He looked at his friend, trying to catch his eye, but Kili was focused on the figure behind them. Bilbo turned to see Legolas’s bored expression; the elf bade Bilbo follow him. The hobbit gave once last bewildered look at Kili before he leapt after the prince.

As he led the hobbit back to his quarters, the prince of Mirkwood made no effort at conversing. However, Bilbo spied the dungeon keys on the prince’s belt, and he formed a plan. He easily pestered the blonde elf with questions as they made their way back to Bilbo’s rooms. Legolas, Bilbo noticed, was quickly becoming irritated with the hobbit. As the climbed the stairs leading to the hall of the Bilbo’s chambers, he tripped and frantically grabbed onto the elf’s belt and ripped off the keys. They spilled over the steps, and Bilbo apologized as the prince bent over to pick them up. The prince quickly escorted Bilbo the rest of the way to his chambers and left, Bilbo presumed, to report back to his father.

The hobbit locked his door and placed a chair against it for good measure. He clambered on the bed and pulled out the small, silver key he had slipped off the stairs as he had fallen. It was, Bilbo hoped, the skeleton key which would open all, or most, of the cells in the dungeons. In the quiet of the dungeons, Balin had quickly described it to him. He turned it over and over in his hobbit hands, waiting for night to fall.

* * *

 

Bilbo crept along the corridors as light from the torches danced along the walls. He had put on the ring, of course, and rolled up all his possesions with his rucksack, but he still feared that he would somehow be found out; then, they would put him in a cell along with their hopes of escape. He had waited until the party was raging on with night to cloak his actions; however, despite the cheer of the elves, a darker aspect seemed to disturb even the brightest song. He suspected it had something to do with the shadow which haunted the forest.

He passed the door to Thranduil’s chambers and paused with his hand upon the door. Making a quick decision, he pulled off his sack and searched through it until he found the moon cup. He slipped into the room; glancing around and seeing no sign of any elves, he made his way through the king’s drawing room to his bedroom. He stopped, frozen in fear, as he noticed a figure splayed out on the bed. It seemed that the king had retired early, for there has was, gracefully tangled in the sheets. His silver hair, released from whatever braid he had pulled it into, spread across the fine pillows. His chest rose and fell quietly as a single candle flickered on his nightstand.

Swallowing heavily, he slowly made his way across the stone floor to the nightstand. He gently laid the cup next to the candle, and he turned to stare for a moment at the king’s face, glowing in firelight as he slept. He gritted his teeth as he looked in his eyes, both of which were wide open, but glazed over. _Elves rest with their eyes open_ , he reminded himself as his heart hammered against his ribs. He wet his lips as his eyes devoured Thranduil relaxed and lithe; he would never see this sight again. Trembling, he slowly leaned forward and pressed his lips against the elf’s forehead. He drew back and quickly darted out of the room, as quickly as discretion would allow. He ran out of the hall and made his way down the steps, towards the dungeons. His mark burned harshly the entire time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As to the whole "wouldn't the dwarves know Thranduil had no wife? Wouldn't Kili say something?"situation which some may question, I think it's actually possible that Kili, and perhaps Fili, wouldn't know that Thranduil's wife was "missing/dead/sailed". I mean, I'm sure Thorin would know, but it wouldn't be pertinent info he'd impart to his nephews, and they didn't grow up in Erebor so....I think it's definite possibility that Kili would come up with this "plan".
> 
> Um I feel really sorry for Bilbo right now. Actually, I feel a lot like Bilbo tbh lol. Imagine the pressure of having someone like Thranduil as your soulmate?? Like...I just try to think about what I could offer someone like Jessica Lange *my lady crush* or Lee Pace *my man crush*. Like there's no way I'd have anything to offer either of them lmao! 
> 
> Anyway, kudos and comments are much appreciated! Hope ya'll liked it! :)
> 
> I've decided that once I finish this, I'm gonna go back through and edit the chapters so any mistakes will be fixed then as I don't have a beta.


	18. Author's note

Hey guys, I just wanted to let you know that I'm not abandoning this! My grandmother has been in ICU, and it's not looking good at all. I've been running back and forth from my house to the hospital *which is about 2 hours from my house* & getting ready for school *which starts Monday*. I hope to get a new chapter out this weekend, maybe it will take my mind off of things. But I hope y'all don't abandon this story or me!


	19. Freedom's Just Another Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Give me the struggle, the iron, the volcanoes"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the lateness of the update. If you all read my author's note, you know why. My grandmother had her surgery, and it's basically 50/50 right now that she will survive & school starts tomorrow so I've just been..upset and really stressed. So just bear with me, please. 
> 
> Anyway, the title of the chapter is a line from "Me and Bobby McGee" famously sang by Janis Joplin.  
> The chapter summary uses a line from Pablo Neruda's Canto XII. It's one of my favorite lines of all time.

Bilbo wrapped icy fingers around the dungeon doorknob as he grappled with the key. He took a deep breath, attempting to settle himself. His mark still stung sharply, and his thoughts darted in and around the subject of Thranduil, a subject he could not afford to consider at the moment. He pressed his forehead against the dark wood of the ornate door and strained to hear for any signs of activity. There were none. What sort of party is it, Bilbo quietly wondered, that Thranduil should retire so early from? With a shake of his head, he twisted the ring off his finger, slipped through the door, and ran down the tunnel with haste until he came upon his companions. Their eyes seemed to devour his shadows cast off by the torchlight as he made to free. Bilbo noted his companions’ gauntness with an abstract worry: the sallowness of their faces, the thinness of body, their cracked lips. He fumbled as he attempted to unlock Balin's cell; he knocked his fingers against the lock as the key clattered to the ground.

"Off to a great start", Bilbo huffed in exasperation. He snatched the key off the ground and opened the cells in quick succession. The dwarves stared at him in silence, and Bilbo shifted uncomfortably before turning and led them to Kili's cell.

The younger prince was ready for them; his eyes were a glint in the shadows, and his lips curved into a smile as they crowded behind the hobbit.

“So,” he whispered as he slipped out of his jail, “What’s the plan, Master burglar?”

“We get Thorin, scamper into the wine cellar, commandeer the barrels, and ship ourselves to Dale,” Bilbo murmured back.

“Barrels!” Dwalin cried out.

“Shh, you fool,” Balin hissed, “Tis a better plan than I could have hoped for.”

“But,” Gloin broke in, “Can we make it?”

“It’s the best plan we’ve got, unless you lot thought of something better,” Bilbo snapped, “And, hopefully the security will be lax as has been implied.”

Before Dwalin could retort, Balin placed a pale, roughened hand on his brother's arm, "We will collect Thorin. There is a point, just ahead, which branches off and connects to the cellar. We will meet you there."

"I'm going as well," Nori added.

Feeling relieved, Bilbo nodded, and the group walked quietly through the dungeon hall until they arrived at the fork. Balin squeezed Bilbo's hand briefly before he, along with his brother and Nori, stole along the left corridor. Dori took up head of the group and led Bilbo and the others along the right. Kili lightly tugged on Bilbo's elbow, indicating he wished to relocate to the back. The hobbit allowed himself to be pulled behind the others. They walked for a moment in near silence; the only sounds, breathing and the slight scuffle of feet, magnified by one hundred in the oppressive dungeon.

Eventually, Kili’s voice ghosted about the hobbit’s ear, “Well, Master Hobbit, find what you were looking for?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Bilbo breathed back.

The dwarf snorted, “Thranduil, obviously.”

Bilbo stiffened and clenched his fists before replying, “I didn’t speak to him, if that’s what you mean.”

Kili slid his fingernails down Bilbo’s clothed arm, though Bilbo could still feel their bite, and whispered harshly, “You’re a damn fool, Bilbo Baggins, or a coward. You do realize we go to face a _dragon_ guarding its hoard? You may never have the chance again!”

“I broke into his private chambers,” Bilbo choked out, “He was so beautiful, beautiful and terrible, I think, too much for a simple hobbit. What had I to offer him? The other elves, nay all of Middle Earth, would mock him. And, beyond that, beyond the humiliation and the uncertainty, he is an elf king with an heir and surely a wife. How could I ask a king to give up his family? His kingdom? His duty? What kind of mate would I be to ask him to give up even one of those things, much less all?”

He glanced away from Kili’s searching gaze as tears filled his eyes and a lump crawled into his throat.

“No,” he continued, “I will say nothing and do nothing, and all will be better for it.”

“All but you,” Kill replied gently.

Bilbo gave a pained smile and shook his head, but said nothing in return. He merely clutched the prince’s arm him his small hand as Dori signaled for a halt. They had come upon the cellar, and Bilbo gratefully acknowledged two elves, snoring, drunkenly sprawled across a wooden table in the center of the musty room. Across from them, thirteen large barrels waited at a wooden rectangle with a large pulley cut into the stone floor. _Must open directly into the river_ , Bilbo mused.

They didn’t have to idle long, however, for mere moments after their entrance, Balin walked to them from the wine racks to their left. Dwalin and Gloin followed while Thorin emerged last. Bilbo felt some relief upon seeing his face, though weathered and weary, a spark light up his eyes. The dwarf king had not lost hope. They converged on the barrels as Thorin ushered the dwarves in, one by one.

The dwarf king laid a hand on Bilbo’s as the hobbit came near him, “I proclaim you a friend of my people Bilbo Baggins, for your courage and creativity.” His lips quirked into a smile, “A rather inspired idea, I must say. I will be the last one to leap—no don’t protest—as I can easily operate this pulley. Besides, I hear hobbits rather despise the water. You will, at least, be safely secured in the barrel if nothing else.”

Bilbo’s mouth dropped open in surprise; while he had expected Thorin’s gratitude, he had not expected his good humor. Thorin merely smiled wider in response to Bilbo’s astonishment. Then he helped Bilbo climb into the second to last barrel. Bilbo gave one last glance at the doors which led up into the main hall and felt sharp longing. He resolutely pushed it away and faced forward. The dwarf king lifted the latch, and the barrels slid down into the icy water. It hit Bilbo’s face and stole his breath, but could not steal away his thoughts of what he’d left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? :) Thoughts? Critique? Adoration? :)


	20. The Chill Was Meant for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Planet earth is blue, and there's nothing I can do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, long time no see. Sorry for the lateness, but my grandmother passed away. Um. I've just been dealing with that and trying to catch back up on homework.
> 
> summary is David Bowie's "Space Oddity" lyric.
> 
> Anyway, hope this one is up to snuff.

Amidst the revelry of the Mirkwood elves, the dwarves and Bilbo quite easily slipped down the river and out of the Elven King’s realm. The dwarves had been mostly silent as the sun had drifted up to break the horizon and splinter light through the wood to warm them. Bilbo hunkered down and pressed his cheek against the rim of the barrel; the rough bark scratched at his frozen flesh as they bobbed along. The water sloshed inside, soaking his chilled limbs, making it impossible for Bilbo to think of anything else besides the cold and their destination. He gratefully accepted the respite from thoughts of Thranduil and observed his companions. Though all looked bedraggled and worn, their eyes shifted about wildly, restlessly. _Almost home_ , Bilbo mused.

The current had gushed and swirled them out of Mirkwood fairly quickly; however, the rapids had petered out leaving them to weave along the water’s path at a slow pace. Their lazy slide down the river had not much suited Thorin, who had grumbled and brooded until the sun broke through his slightly darkened countenance.

Nori’s voice broke through the silence, “Up ahead, look!”

All the company squinted in front of them, following the enthusiastic dwarf’s line of sight. Before them, a medium-sized transportation boat bobbed in the water. A single individual manned the craft which carried barrels similar to theirs. The man—for he was too sharply angled and broad to be anything else—swiftly turned to face them, bow raised, as their barrels drew nearer.

“We mean you no harm,” Balin cried out, “We weary travelers merely seek passage into Lake Town.”

The man lowered his bow but clenched it tightly all the same and replied, “What business have you in that place?”

Thorin sneered and opened his mouth; Bilbo cringed, but Balin intercepted the dwarf king with a swift answer, “Dwarf business, my good sir. We can pay you for the ride, if that’s the reason for your hesitancy.”

The man twisted his mouth into a thoughtful frown as he watched all of them sidle up to his boat. Apparently, he deemed them fair travelers or neutral ones, for he jerked his head and stepped back to allow the company to clamber onto the deck. Bilbo shakily grasped onto the side and tumbled over, feeling the durable and dry wood press against him. When the others had gotten on, the man instructed the dwarves to pull the barrels onboard as well. After they had done so and settled the empty barrels to the side, the man hauled the anchor up and set them down the river again.

Bilbo had curled up on a crate and leaned against the side when he felt a rough cloth rub his hand. He blearily blinked up at their rescuer, Bard the Bowman as he had quietly informed Balin, who had gently placed a wool blanket onto his lap.

“As little as you are, you’ll freeze before we can get to Lake-Town, Halfling.”

Bilbo smiled and croaked out, “My thanks, Bard of Lake-Town, my name is Bilbo.”

The man nodded his dark head and turned away to steer and converse quietly with Balin; the other dwarves silently stared out ahead of them as snow began to flutter down from the sky.

_Would there be snow in Rivendell_ , Bilbo wondered, _or would Elrond_ ’ _s elven magic and warmth bar it from that place_? He clenched his teeth as his thoughts turned to another elf and his realm; the chill of winter fit him quite well. He held out his hands, weathered from the journey, to feel it dot his skin. _Finer than spider_ ’ _s silk_ , _but not finer than his hair or paler than his skin_ , he thought gloomily. He wrapped the blanket tightly around him and leaned his head on the rail, not even trying to stay awake. Balin continued to make conversation with the Bowman as the others conversed amongst themselves as Bilbo drifted off, wearier than he had been in a dragon’s age.

He woke to Kili’s fervent whisper, “Get up, Bilbo. Up now.”

Bilbo groaned and tried to push him away but to no avail. Kili gripped his wrist and hauled him off the crate and pushed Bilbo back into one of the barrels before the hobbit properly awoke.

“We’re having to sneak into the town,” Kili whispered, “Be absolutely quiet, Bilbo. Bard said something about the Master of Lake-Town not taking kindly to visitors, and Thorin is sure they’ll stop us from getting to the Mountain if they even suspect our intentions for a second.”

Before Bilbo could reply, Kili hopped into the barrel beside him and huddled down. They traveled on in silence for a few more minutes, but soon the boat slowed to a halt as unfamiliar voices called out in greeting to Bard. Bilbo held his breath and clenched his nails into his palms as they waited to be cleared for passage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So?? How did it measure up? Sorry it's so late...I've just been swamped with school *which is awful I have no clue how to be an adult or do real life??* and life *which is awful and made even worse by my inability to handle school*.
> 
> I appreciate ya'll sticking with me and your lovely comments!
> 
> Also, does anyone watch Lost? Because I'm obsessed with Sense8 & Naveen Andrews, so I started watching Lost & now I'm obsessed with it and also terrified to get back on a plane lol.


	21. An Irreverent Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Whither thou goest, I will go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of ya'll asked for a Thranduil p.o.v so here it is. It's technically not his p.o.v since this story is mostly in third person limited, but it is entirely a scene with Thranduil, not Bilbo and the dwarves. 
> 
> Uhhh that quote from the summary is a Biblical quote.
> 
> It was super hard to do & forced, in a way, but I enjoyed it. I don't know that his p.o.v will be making an appearance again until the end or nearing the end, however.

Angry voices bounced off the stone walls and filled the private quarters of the Elven King. One blonde elf swiftly jerked his head, braid swinging, with the force of the argument as he gestured at the other.

“You let them go!” Legolas snapped.

Silver eyes followed the young prince as he stalked from one side of the room to the other; the fire gave him an unhealthy glow.

When his father did not respond, Legolas continued, “You let them go after they invaded our lands and endangered our people. They are _dwarves_ , and you let them go!”

Thranduil slowly turned his gaze to the fire and rubbed long, slender fingers across his chaise. Legolas stomped over to him and opened his mouth, but Thranduil held up a hand in warning.

“You _will_ sit down, Legolas, and cease speaking to me in such a manner, or,” and here he turned his cold gaze back to his son, “have you forgotten that first and foremost, I am your _king_?”

Legolas shot him a glare and grit his teeth so hard the clack echoed into the corners of the room, but he plopped into the fine armchair in front of his father and spoke no more.

“I let them go, yes,” Thranduil continued, “because I desired to do so. There are events in motion…” his voice faded into the crackle of the fire as Legolas shifted in his seat. The muscles in his throat slowly contracted as he swallowed drily.

“Evil is stirring, Legolas, and if what the message from the wizard says is true, the dragon and the mountain need to be dealt with as quickly as time and opportunity will permit. Too long have they been left unattended to, too long has the city of men spoiled beneath the dragon’s fire.”

Legolas’s nostrils flared along with his temper as he replied in a strangled voice, “If their quest is a matter of such great importance could you not have released them with provisions, their weapons, and safe passage through the rest of the wood? Instead you let them slip through the dungeons and climb into moldy barrels not fit even for our cheapest wines to travel in.”

Thranduil’s eyes softened as his lips pursed into a smile, “They would not have accepted help from me, Legolas, or any of our people. Nay, they would accept nothing but their own way. Had I offered to let them go freely, Thorin would have retreated to the back of his cell and stewed there just to spite me.”

“They let the hobbit help them!”

A sharp sigh followed the prince’s exclamation, “The dwarves have taken the halfing in as their close companion, if not as their brother.” Thranduil paused and bunched his robe tightly in his fist, “You indicated to me that the youngest dwarf prince has a special bond with the small creature; thus, it would not surprise me that they trust him fully.”

“That must be so; at any rate, they have escaped and so it matters not how, but they are only a few! How can they kill a dragon? It will awaken and destroy what is left of the city of men along with the dwarf king and his _only_ heirs.”

Thranduil waved his hand and replied, “There are others more fit to rule the mountain than Thorin; he has too much hate and despair in his heart even now.”

“Perhaps for good reason!” Legolas snapped.

The king lowered his hand, “Perhaps, indeed,” he whispered softly. He let the silence settle for a moment before resuming, “As for the dragon, its time has come and nothing save dark magic could save it. However it may happen, death approaches to swallow the snake. And the town will survive, men always do.”

Dusk had disappeared behind the two elves, and the stars appeared to take its place. Legolas rose from the chair and drifted to the window; he pressed his pale cheek against the glass as he observed the frost creep into the foliage below them.

“What of the halfling, then?” Legolas asked softly.

Thranduil clenched his teeth and spit out, “What of him?”

Legolas hunched inwards and fogged the glass with his nervous breath, “They are soft creatures, built for comfort not war or peril; and you kept him close, just a wall to separate you. Yet you allowed him to be the ringleader. You allowed him to escape; he floated down the river in the cold, and Elbereth only knows if he will be pleasantly received in Lake-Town. Vulnerable! It is our job to protect such things!”

Legolas startled at the ire in Thranduil’s tone, “He is not a thing!”

Seeing his son’s unease, Thranduil breathed in deeply and settled back in the chaise, “He is not a thing, not a thing to keep or protect or order about. He made the decision to free his companions, to continue on his quest, as is his _right_. As a king, my first and foremost duty is protect my people; one day you will learn the harsh truth of this. We are servants to our people first, above all else.”

His voice lowered, “ I could do no more for Bilbo Baggins than I did, no more than protect his choice: his choice to accept my offer of hospitality then negate it, his choice to free the dwarves, his choice to leave. He was not a _prisoner_ here, Legolas.”

Legolas nodded, feeling defeated, and made his way for the door. He stopped to bow in front of the king and await any last orders.

“Legolas,” Thranduil called softly, “Gather Tauriel and the other captains. Tell them to prepare for war. Thorin will not only have a dragon to contend with; the men of Dale will come to call upon him and the orcs; and I fear he will make an enemy twofold if such is the case. Ready the horses, the armor, weapons, provisions, so that we may march as soon as the call comes.”

“Call for war?” Legolas croaked in disbelief, “We are following the dwarves? To what end?”

Thranduil brought a hand up to rest on his chest; he gave a bitter smile, “The dwarves have something of mine; I would have it back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did you think??
> 
> I certainly made Legolas more sympathetic here than he is in movie canon and perhaps book canon, but he's young *ish* and not as cold as his father. Plus, I needed a sort of foil for Thranduil here in this section. 
> 
> I just read this really fucked up fanfic *without knowing what direction it was going in, mind you, I didn't know what was gonna happen*, and I am for sure going to hell now. Like, before it was just a possibility, but now it's a for sure reality lol.
> 
> Any mistakes...will be repaired at some point in the future.


	22. Weakness In Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are you so strong or is all the weakness in me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a terrible person with no discipline I'm sorry :/ I know it's short, but I have been absolutely swamped with so much work in the past two months. Plus, I've been more depressed than ever so just getting my school stuff done has been ridiculously difficult.
> 
> The title and chap summary come from a song "Weakness In Me" by Joan Armatrading. It's very beautiful; I highly recommend you check it out!

Bard had grudgingly offered the dwarves shelter in his home for the night, and he had insisted that Bilbo take up residency in his son's bedroom. Bard had gotten them into the town without any signs of suspicion, and against Bard's wishes, Thorin had ordered all but Bilbo to sneak through the town to search for weapons and more food as soon as the sun went down. Hours after they his companions had departed, he awoke to their whispered voices drifting up the stairs. Bilbo eagerly, swiftly exited the room and crept downstairs to greet them. He hovered on the last step as Kili shook his head in Bilbo's direction. Bilbo frowned, and Kili shook his head again. Feeling as though he was intruding, Bilbo turned and softly climbed back up the stairs and quietly returned to the room.

A few minutes later, a soft knock jerked Bilbo out of a doze. He opened the door, and Kili, looking rather sheepish, entered.

"Thorin was in quite the temper. I didn't want you to catch his wrath."

"Ah, well," Bilbo said,"When isn't he?"

"I can't argue with you their, Mr. Boggins."

Their conversation stilled as the young boy stirred.

Kili resumed when he settled down, "So, my dear, tomorrow we go to the mountain. We will find the way in and slay the dragon!"

Bilbo snorted, "You seem entirely too optimistic. It's a bloody dragon."

"Hopefully, if luck is on our side, it will be sleeping as delicately as a kitten and be as easy to kill."

"When has luck ever been on our side?"

"Well, you have a point, but if that's the case, there's no reason why it shouldn't join our cause in the morrow!"

Bilbo smiled, "I don't suppose I'd like you to be anything less than cheerful, my friend."

Kili grinned in return and settled down on the floor, pulling Bilbo down with him.

“Now, Mr. Boggins, you’ll tell me about what happened.”

Bilbo stiffened and clenched his jaw as he replied, “What happened? I’m not sure what you mean.”

Kili shook his dark head, “You know exactly what I mean, Bilbo. I mean what happened with the king, with Thranduil?”

Bilbo shook his head as he felt his heart crawl into his throat. Just the mention of his name sent a shiver of pain to his mark. “Nothing happened. As I said before, nothing has, nothing ever will.”

Kili pursed his lips as he studied his friend’s withdrawn expression.

“At times, I…I wish I had never come on this trip. However, I think, even despite…that…it has been worth it in the end,” Bilbo muttered.

Kili placed his hand on Bilbo’s arm and tugged him into an embrace. They sat for a time in silence, taking comfort from the other’s presence.

Eventually, Kili pulled back and rummanged around in his pack. Bilbo watched as he slowly and carefully retrieved a small jar.

“Lift up your shirt,” Kili said as he unscrewed the lid.

Bilbo hesitated until Kili continued, “It’s a salve for pain. Bard gave it to me. It should ease the inflammation around your mark, at least a bit. So, lift.”

Bilbo lifted his shirt and flinched as Kili sucked in a deep breath at the sight of his mark, burning red. He reached out a hand but stopped suddenly, so close that Bilbo could feel his heat.

“I shouldn’t touch it. Only you or him should do that.” He handed Bilbo the jar and held up the edge of Bilbo’s shirt so the hobbit could lightly cover the mark with the salve. When he had finished, Kili gently let go of the shirt.

Bilbo shifted with discomfort and asked, “And you? What about you?”

Kili blinked innocently, “I have no clue what you mean.”

Bilbo glared, “Oh, yes you do, my young prince. Don’t think you can hide from me.”

Kili shrugged and looked away.

Bilbo pressed on, “You seemed…awfully familiar with that one, Tauriel, was it?”

Kili sighed and nodded but offered no more information.

“That’s an odd thing,” Bilbo continued, “I thought the elves hated you lot. I thought you hated them.”

them.”

“Unlike the older dwarves, Fili and I weren’t around when were ousted from our home. We weren’t there to see Thranduil turn away or to see our people travel around in desperation. I think…our feelings are not as hard towards the elves as theirs are, for good reason I suppose, although hate does nothing for us. As for how they, the elves, feel, I couldn’t say except to point out the obvious distrust which still exists on both sides. Tauriel treated me well despite the tension that is between our peoples. Tauriel…” Here Kili trailed off.

He bit his lip and shook his head, refusing to continue.

Bilbo whispered, “You miss her.”

Kili gave a short nod and gripped Bilbo’s hand.

Bilbo pulled Kili down onto the mound of blankets he had laid on the floor as his makeshift bed. “Let’s rest for a while. Tomorrow will make or break us.”

Kili settled into the blankets, and he drifted off. Bilbo counted his breaths until he fell asleep as well, a pale, regal face at the forefront of his mind.


	23. By the Light of the Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm literally just writing this and going with it. I have no plan.  
> Also, I'm doing this instead of writing two papers, revising two others, writing 7 250 word blog posts, and studying for two tests. So, yeah.

Surrounded by his companions, Bilbo stood in awe as he tilted his head back to take in the vastness of his friends' home. It was magnificent and ancient, though the land was barren. Kili came up beside of him as Thorin began the ascent.

“Long way to climb, eh, Bilbo?”

Bilbo stepped in behind Gloin and replied, “And an even longer way to fall, Master Kili.”

Kili snorted in reply, but followed suit. Though it was early morning, the clouds blocked the sun and cast a grey filter on the mountain. Thorin had been mostly calm since their arrival in Laketown, but a reckless energy had inspired him and infected the others. Though they were excited, Bilbo felt uneasy. The land was rocky and void of trees, offering them no coverage. No city of dwarves in sight.

Kili shoved him on, “Be quicker about it, Bilbo, we’ve a time to go, yet, and must find the entrance soon.”

They trekked across the area for hours. _Beyond the count of time_ , Bilbo thought to himself. Sweat soaked through his clothes despite the chill in the air. It felt like a sickness, and Bilbo ached to be back in his small hobbit house, protected from the wind, rain, and even dragons. So absorbed in these thoughts, he didn’t notice that the others had gathered together on a ridge until Balin called out his name.

He trotted over to the group and peered out to see a vast, basin shaped valley below. The remains of a city stood at the center. It looked to Bilbo like a charred skeleton.

“Dale,” Balin whispered.

Bilbo swallowed dryly. An entire city and all its people, felled in a single swoop by a dragon. _A fire breathing dragon_ , Bilbo thought as he pressed his hand to his heart. That’s what they were up against.

“We must continue on,” Thorin said, “We must find the door before the day is over.”

“But,” Bilbo paused as Thorin turned to face him. “But aren’t we to wait for Gandalf right here?”

“Do you see the wizard anywhere, Mr. Baggins? 

We have no time to waste. We must get to Erebor before nightfall.” Thorin swiftly stalked away to lead the company again.

Bilbo let himself be led away from the edge by Kili’s friendly grasp, and he forced himself not to look back as they continued up the mountain.

“Uncle is right, you know,” Kili said, “We don’t have time to wait for Gandalf.”

Bilbo huffed, “I should think we would bloody well _make_ time for the only person who could possibly help us fight off a bloody dragon.”

“He’ll catch up, Bilbo, don’t worry. It’s our job to get into the mountain. If we find the door, we can always let Gandalf in when he comes,” Kili replied.

Bilbo rolled his eyes and said, “It’s a bad idea. I insist that this is a truly, horrendously, horribly bad idea of which nothing good can come.”

Kili snorted, “Duly noted.”

They kept moving, and Bilbo fell into the rhythm of being part of the company. He stared at the ground as he walked as images and thoughts, unwanted and unbidden, crept to the forefront of his mind. He clenched his teeth as Thranduil’s words echoed in his ears and his visage forced everything else to fade away. He rubbed at his chest as his mark flared painfully. It had steadily burned since he had first met the elf king, but he had successfully, for the most part, deflected the discomforting pain and intrusive thoughts to the wayside. He had hardly had a moment to think since they had escaped Mirkwood, but the relative quiet of the climb had given him the unfortunate opportunity to relive the events of their captivity. He remembered the fierce beauty and danger which surrounded Thranduil, and tears formed in his eyes. Bilbo took several deep breaths, determined not to let them fall. He swallowed and crashed into the Nori who had, for some reason, stopped.

He looked up and gasped. They had clearly reached the Erebor. They stood at the bottom of the tallest statue that Bilbo, limited travelling experience notwithstanding, had ever seen. It was carved into the very mountain it protected, a stone dwarf warrior. Bilbo craned his head back, but the dwarf disappeared into the mists, and he couldn’t see where it ended and the rest of the mountain began.

Thorin said, “There is a small crevice behind this. This is where I believe the door must be.”

He led them to a small, steep trail which would take them up and behind the stone dwarf’s head. Bilbo’s heart pounded as they all reached the summit. They were almost in; he could see the bright gleam of the dwarves’s eyes and the ruddy excited glow on their cheeks. Thorin pulled out the key and instructed them all to search for the door. They spent several minutes eagerly scouring the wall. The sun continued to go down, and Thorin’s impatience escalated. With each passing moment, they still had not found the entrance.

“We must find it! The light of Durin’s Day should show us the way!” Thorin urged them on, but to no avail. The last vestiges of sunlight briefly lingered over the horizon before dipping down behind the trees. Thorin let out an anguished cry, and he turned away.

For several long, tense moments, they sat in silence and shadow as the moon rose to take the sun’s place. The others turned from the mountain and looked out over the land, but Bilbo continued to stare at the grey face where the door was supposedly hidden. The moonlight began the peak through the clouds until it covered them. Bilbo’s eyes roved over the wall slowly until they landed on a small hole. A small hole which Bilbo was sure had not been there before.

“Thorin!” Thorin!” He cried, “Thorin, look! It wasn’t by the light of the _day_. It was by the light of the moon!”

Thorin jerked around and scrambled up to stand beside him. His roughened hands reached out to caress the area, clearly expertly made. It was no crack made out of time or violent circumstance. With bated breath, they crowded around the dwarf king as he slid the key home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated :)  
> This is so freaking long. I think once it's done I'm gonna combine some chapters or something.  
> Anyway, any mistakes will be fixed at a later date!


	24. In and Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do what you came to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna say much here except sorry. I'm terrible. This year has been..pretty freaking hard for me. If any of you are still waiting on this, I hope this new chapter makes up for it. & just know that I will be finishing this come hell or high water.

After they had sidled through the passage, the dwarves had scouted out a large crevice within the mountain, big enough for the entire group to lie down comfortably, if a bit cramped. Much of what Bilbo could see was merely rubble and dirt, but the infrastructure had held, even after all this time with no one to keep it up, and it was magnificent. Each pillar looked as if it had been shaped by Mahal himself, like he had peeled away the excess stone to revel the jewel beneath. He wondered how Thranduil might look here among the stone, glittering in the night, a jewel in his own right. He pushed the thought away as he knew that he would never see him again, in this mountain or out of it.

Bilbo could see the beauty of the place, untouched by time, but still felt uncomfortable, as if the dust had settled in his throat and not still on the ground. The halls provided warmth, at the least, despite darkness. The mountain had been empty of all life but one for too long, and Bilbo settled against the wall to wait as Dori, Nori, and Bombur set up the rest of the camp.

The others wandered, though quietly and within sight of the small camp, through the area. Bofur and Bifur were talking quietly as they searched for more room. Oin and Gloin appeared to be testing the strength of the pillars and walls. Ori and Dwalin sifted through rock on the ground. Bilbo grimaced when he couldn’t tell whether they looked for gems or the dead. The twins looked about with wonder as Thorin led them along, pointing out carvings in the stone. Thorin did not look well. From his place, Bilbo could see the sweat on his face, matting his hair. His face looked pale, grey underneath the shadows of the rock, yet he gestured about, and gripped his nephews with fervor.

“What do you think, Mr. Baggins?” came a voice to his left, Balin.

“I think,” Bilbo replied, “that this would be an occasion to celebrate if we dared.”

“Yes, that it would be. I haven’t tasted the air of the mountain in far too long. The younglings never tasted it at all, until now. It’s a sad thing that they know this place only as it is now. I’m afraid they’re tasting the spoil of death.”

They sat in silence for a few moments longer and watched Thorin scramble around the wreckage, pulling Kili and Fili behind him.

“I was not speaking of our success, though, Master hobbit. I mean,” here Balin tilted his head in Thorin’s direction.

“He’s not looking well. He looks, Balin, he looks quite sick.”

Bilbo watched Balin’s eyes trail over his king’s form for a moment.

“Aye, we best hope it is only the excitement of the day and the sleepless nights.”

Before Bilbo could respond, the others had drifted back over. Bilbo expected shouts of excitement and feverish whispers, but the euphoria had faded. Bofur claimed a spot beside of him.

He put his hand on Bilbo’s arm, “What do you think, Bilbo?”

“It’s an impressive place, Bofur. More than impressive.”  
“Yes, but the shadow hangs over us, and I’m not talking about the lack of light though that is a problem to be sure.”

Bilbo’s heart sped up. The dragon. The stain on their victory and the reason Bilbo had been brought along in the first place. A wave of nervousness overtook him for a moment. It swept up into his mouth and clutched his throat until breathing became difficult. Bofur patted him on the back.

“It’ll be alright, Bilbo. You’ll see. I daresay that old lizard is dead. No one has heard a peep out of him since he came here.”

Bilbo felt no better. He could hear the uncertainty in Bofur’s voice and knew that the dragon was likely still alive, though sleeping, just waiting to sink its teeth into Bilbo or fry him. He stuck his hand in his pocket and felt for the ring. It was cold to the touch and gave him no comfort.

Bofur placed a dark square into his hand. “Here, I took this from the village. It’s halva, a little cake.”

Bilbo shoved the entire thing into his mouth and hardly chewed before swallowing it down.

He’d been so wrapped up in his thoughts and the cake that he didn’t notice Thorin’s approach. Thorin shook him, none too gently, until he looked up.

“Have you not looked upon the halls of my fathers’, Master hobbit?”

“Aye, I have, but only a little.”

Thorin looked none too pleased. “Only a little?”

“I thought it best to wait until you had deemed it safe, Master dwarf.”

“My home will not be safe until you’ve finished your job.”

The rest of the company, who had been chattering among themselves, stopped talking to watch the two of them. Bilbo felt the weight of their eyes pressing like thick darkness on all sides into him. They were worried for him, he realized, but their worry did not rival their desire to reclaim their home and heritage. They would let him go, not gladly and with reluctance, but still they would. In the end, he was essentially Thorin’s pawn. He’d forgotten that he was to be moved at his command, not a true companion but a hired hand.

“Well, I daresay that would be a great help in your endeavors, sir. However, I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to do.”

Balin broke in, “He ought not go into the heart of the moment where the beast stays tonight. We all need a good meal and a night’s rest, the hobbit most of all.”

Thorin studied the both of them for a moment before he conceded. “Fine. Perhaps you are right. In any event, I have waited this long, I can wait another night.”

He directed Bombur to distribute food and then turned back to Bilbo.

“Here is what you shall do: the dragon, if alive, shall surely be sitting on top of a hoard in the treasure room which I will direct you to.” He paused and looked around to observe the others concentrating on their food and conversation. “I have no doubt that the foul beast has a particular jewel near him. A stone that is my birthright. The Arkenstone. You shall retrieve that. I must have it.”

“How will getting that help kill the dragon.”

“Are you a burglar? Did I not specifically hire you for such a reason? I certainly do not remember taking you on as an advisor, Master Hobbit. In any case, the creature may not live. You will not take watch tonight. Get a full night’s rest.”

Bilbo finished the last of his bread as Thorin rose to leave. “What will it look like?”

Either Thorin did not hear him or he felt the question irrelevant because he did not reply.

“You’ll know it when you see it,” Balin whispered in his ear. “Lie back now, and try to get some sleep.”

Bilbo felt the of panic wave rushing through him again but allowed Balin to push him down onto his bedroll. He fell asleep rubbing his fingers around the gold band in his pocket as dark dreams crept up to caress him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is much appreciated :) also for what it's worth i am SO sorry :/
> 
> Also, the cake Bofur gives Bilbo is real. Supposedly, Rhovanion is based on the Ural Mountains which is in Russia. So I looked up some traditional Russian food. Hope it is legit?


	25. Beware the Jabberwock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the jaws that bite, the claws that catch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was super hard to get through. I don't know why, but I'm just glad I got it done. Also, in the movie it makes it seem like where Smaug is hanging out is, like, right next to where the dwarves are hanging out, but that didn't work for me so it takes Bilbo awhile to get to the treasury room in this story. idk if that's relevant, but, there it is.

Bilbo woke several hours before dawn just as Dwalin was taking the watch. Bombur was up as well, readying breakfast. He waved Bilbo over.

“Here, Mr. Baggins, I thought you could use some cram. Don’t want to meet a dragon on an empty stomach.”

Bilbo took a bite of the biscuit and smiled in return. He ate a few more as some of the other members began to stir. Bilbo let his hand drift down his shirt to press against the mark on his chest. Since they’d left Mirkwood, it had been steadily aching, but not so much that Bilbo couldn’t ignore it. He felt comforted, actually, knowing it was there and that it had met its match though they could never be together.

Kili settled next to him as he ate and placed a hand on Bilbo’s thigh. He smiled when Kili stole one of the biscuits Bombur had given him.

“I didn’t expect to see you up quite so early, Kili.”

“Aye, well, Mister Boggins, there’s a first time for everything, or so they say.” Bilbo raised an eyebrow as Kili continued, “But, if I’m being honest, uncle bade me get up with you.”

They ate for a few moments more before Kili began again, “I won’t press you, Bilbo, but, well, you are going to the dragon this morning. Isn’t there anything you’d like to say?”

Bilbo pushed Kili’s hand off without looking at him. “Say? About what?”

“You know, about that elf so fair, Thranduil. Don’t tell my uncle I said that.”

“No, I have absolutely nothing to say. We’ve discussed this before, and my answer is the same now as it was then.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist. You’re only fussy because you know I’m right.”

“Well, just what would you have me do? Should I send him a love letter via dwarf? Or perhaps I should save Thorin the trouble by slaying the dragon and making a coat of its scales to send to Thranduil.”

Kili pinched Bilbo’s leg. “Now, the love letter isn’t a bad idea, but you never know what the chances of it getting to him are. Besides, what if another elf reads it? The dragon is a fine idea, but a bit unrealistic as of now. Give me a moment to think.”

He put his hand on his chin and leaned down. “I think you should just tell him.”

Bilbo jumped to his feet and began to ready himself. He attached his dagger to his belt and felt for the ring for he knew he would need it though the cold band beneath his fingers offered him no comfort.

“I think that’s quite literally the worst idea I’ve ever heard, and I’m the one Gandalf had to explain this expedition to, so that says quite a bit.”

“Look at it this way, if he says he’s been waiting for you his entire life and that you’re the best thing that has ever happened to any creature on Arda, you’re set for life no problems. If he looks at you like you’re not even good enough to be the dirt that clings to the hem of his robe, you’re mortal so eventually you will die.”

Bilbo turned to him and shrugged. Death wouldn’t be so bad if he were to be rejected. The embarrassment alone would probably do it.

“I can’t. Besides, we’re trying to take a mountain and a hoard of gold from a bloody dragon. The chances of my survival are slim to none. Therefore, I have nothing to worry about.”

He started to move away from their place by his bedroll.

“You’ll not go alone,” Kili said, “I would go down to the treasury with you. We can face the giant lizard and look for the Arkenstone together.”

Bilbo paused, not wanting Kili to come, but also wanting to prolong his job as much as possible, “What exactly is the Arkenstone, Kili? I asked Thorin, but he didn’t say.”

“It’s a stone, and you’ll know it when you see it. According to Balin, and my mother, it’s the most beautiful jewel mined in the mountain, and it is an heirloom of our house.”

“But, uh, how beautiful exactly? Enough to face a dragon beautiful? Because, quite frankly, there’s not much on earth that I think would be worthy to face a dragon, and none of it has to do with pretty jewelry.”

Kili laughed, “Don’t let Thorin hear you say such rubbish! He’d cut your beard if you had one. If you ask me, I’d rather wait until we’ve finished off the dragon, but it may boost morale. Once uncle has it, he’ll be able to focus on other things, I expect. It would be comforting to him, most of all, I think.”

Kili got up to leave and bent down to Bilbo’s ear, “Don’t even think about sneaking off. I’ll be back in just a moment.”

Though he wanted to, Bilbo didn’t argue and instead said nothing in return. He knew of Kili’s stubbornness. Regardless, he would slip away undetected while Kili was busy or Thorin would forbid him from coming.

He got his chance to sneak away when Thorin awoke several minutes after Kili drifted away to speak with Fili. He called the princes, Dwalin, and Balin to his alcove away from the others, and Bilbo sneaked away as the rest of the dwarves were immersed in discussion or breakfast. Once he was out of sight, he slipped on the ring and continued away from them.

 

At least an hour had passed before Bilbo found the hoard, once Bilbo imagined, the great treasury room to the dwarves. The dragon had turned it into a massive pile of treasure and coin that spilled out throughout the large area, creating smaller mounds of jewels and the like. In some places, Bilbo could see bones of what no doubt had been the creature’s last meals. They seemed rather old, however, and Bilbo felt a faint hope that perhaps, by some miracle, the dragon had died of old age or sickness for he saw no sign of the enormous creature and was sure that it could not be missed.

He crouched down low and descended the steps and began to search at the edges of the hoard. Each movement sent a shiver through the entire mound, it seemed, and after a few moments, when Bilbo could detect no movement other than his own, he relaxed. He sifted through the coin, seeing many jewels and stones tumble from their places, but none stood out. He clambered further from the hall and into the hoard to search for the Arkenstone cursing under his breath.

He dug for what seemed like hours and had only sorted through one fairly small pile, small enough that he could see over it. He sat back on his haunches and looked across the hills of treasure. On the other side, near an alcove, A sliver of white caught his eye among the dense yellow color of gold. He leaped and scrambled his way to it. He was sure that this was it. After all, the dwarves seemed quite positive that it would be easy enough the find. He wrapped his around the cool stone and pulled.

An entire mound of treasure shifted and began to slide as he tugged the stone free and nearly crushed him, but he rolled into the alcove with his prize only to be disappointed. He had not found the Arkenstone after all. He had grabbed what was merely the head of a long, jewel encrusted staff. The treasure stopped falling and shifting. He threw the staff to the side and held his breath, wondering if the dragon would wake. Bilbo sat still for several minutes longer before he got the courage to step back out into the treasure and promptly wished he hadn’t. A great wave of gold began to shower down on him and a deep growl rattled the room. Smaug, the ruin of Erebor, had awakened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos/comments are much appreciated :).

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I'm on Tumblr @novellaqueen. I will probably talk about the fic and when/if it will be updated on there.


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